


A Consort to a King

by eyeslikeonyx



Series: A Consort to a King [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Canon-Typical Violence, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Game of Thrones AU, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Magic, Misogyny, Mpreg through Curse, Pining, Post-War, Several character deaths, Slow Burn, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 19:22:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 51,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13488150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyeslikeonyx/pseuds/eyeslikeonyx
Summary: “Only known him for all of two minutes, and you’re already gone for him,” Sasha teases. “Not that I can blame you. He is very handsome.”Beautiful, Evgeni wants to say. Sidney Crosby is not handsome. He is beautiful.





	A Consort to a King

**Author's Note:**

> After six weeks of writing, crying, a shit ton of editing, and so much happening in my life at one time, I have finally finished the Game of Thrones AU.
> 
> First off, I want to thank my beta, Julia (@enceiles), for helping me with every detail of the final product of this thing. There was so much wrong with it when I sent it to her, and she helped make it smoother and better than I could have imagined. I couldn't have done it without her!
> 
> Second, I want to thank Haylee (@reepeat) for being the best cheerleader EVER and helping me push through to finish it in the first place.
> 
> Third, I want to thank Bee (@nomorelonelydays) and all of her anons for starting this AU several months ago on Tumblr. They all inspired me to want to get back into writing again, and I am happy to be back at it.
> 
> This is the longest piece of fiction I have ever published in my life. Over 51,000 words. This is also probably the best fic I have ever written for any fandom I have ever been a part of.
> 
> Since this is a Game of Thrones AU, some things are fairly accurate to what is seen in the show and in the books. The violence, the explicit sexual content, and the mindsets and opinions about gender equality are just a few of them to name. Warnings are at the end if you want to know what you're getting yourself into. They do contain major spoilers so proceed with caution.
> 
> And without further ado, enjoy! Kudos and comments are always welcome!
> 
> (tumblr: eyeslikeonyx)

Prince Evgeni of the Seven Kingdoms, the First of his Name of House Malkin, is known by all to be both feared and heavily respected. He is ruthless in the face of his adversaries and is loved by his family, friends, and his people. The first time he is called to fight is at the age of sixteen, and, against his father’s best wishes, Evgeni chooses to take his place on the frontline when charging into battle during a surprise attack on King’s Landing. He never flinches at the swinging of a sword, nor does he hide from those that would love nothing more than to have his head on a spike for the world to see. He fights like he was born for the battlefield. He is brutal with a blade and merciless with his fists. He is practically untouchable with how quick he is on his feet. He is tall and lanky, but he moves like nothing can stop him. Many say he is a man possessed when he is fighting. He proves his worth to his fellow soldiers during that first attempted raid on King’s Landing. He cannot remember how many men he slays in the streets. He always stabs them through the heart, never the back. His dark, dangerous eyes are the last thing his defeated enemies see before they meet their demise. His resilience and strength qualm his people’s fears of invasion and defeat and give Evgeni and his men the first victory of the River War.

The night after foiling the first attack on King’s Landing, Evgeni and his fellow men celebrate with their people in the streets. He meets a whore with fiery red hair and tempting blue eyes, and she promises him a night he will surely never forget. She really is a great fuck. Evgeni is careful not to tell her his real name, and she does not seem to care if he is who he says he is. His friends wonder, as the war moves on, how he can have whores and courtesans fuck him without having to know anything about him. He only shrugs and lets himself be whisked away by beautiful women—sometimes beautiful men, if they are enticing enough—and fucks them with abandon. Prince Evgeni gives the people hope for a long-standing future, even if all the Prince wishes to do is drink, fuck, and fight while he is still young enough to do it.

While an eighteen year-old Evgeni is on the tailends recovering in King’s Landing from an injury to his knee, he has a wonderful, wild evening that ends with him passed out between three whores in a brothel on the other side of the capitol. That same night, King Vladimir, the Prince’s father, unexpectedly passes away in his sleep. Evgeni is told the news by Ilya Kovalchuk, who was sent by the Queen Consort to find the Prince and bring him back to the Red Keep. Evgeni vomits and shakes and sobs in agony just as the sun is beginning to rise. There is not a cloud in the sky.

Prince Denis, though he is the eldest of the only two children of King Vladimir and his Queen Consort Natalia, quickly denies his role as the next rightful heir to the throne, explaining to the Royal Council that he is unfit to be King. He believes that Evgeni is more deserving of the title.

“Denis,” Evgeni says later that night after the meeting with the Royal Council, “you are next in line to become King of Westeros. That title is yours.” They are sitting on the balcony of Denis’ chambers that overlooks King’s Landing. They watch the city mourn below them.

“Just because I am older does not mean that I am the best choice for Westeros,” Denis argues. “You have proven yourself worthy to sit on the Iron Throne and lead this continent to better days. Westeros needs someone who is strong, cunning, and brave. I am none of those things. I could never fight as well as you when we were children. I couldn’t even make it through the basics of our military’s training. But you—you have climbed the ranks of our military so quickly. And most importantly, you did it fairly. You have proven your worth.”

“I’m too young to be King!” Evgeni croaks. His hands shake in his lap; his voice quivers with every honest word he says. “There is still a war to be fought! I need to be out there with my men! If I am crowned King, the Royal Council will never let me return to battle!” Evgeni fiercely wipes away his tears and stares at the moonlight glistening over Blackwater Bay. “I’m not ready,” Evgeni whimpers brokenly. “What if I send Westeros into ruin? What if we lose this war? How can they expect either of us to be as great of Kings as Father was?” Evgeni’s head hurts; everything hurts. “I just want Papa back.” He feels so weak begging for his Papa to come hold him and tell him everything will be just fine, that he needn’t worry about the trials he will face. Denis hugs Evgeni tightly, letting the young Prince soak his robes with his tears. They hold each other for quite some time, neither of them saying anything.

“I think you are underestimating yourself, Zhenya,” Denis whispers in the stillness of the nighttime air after a while. “You are much stronger than you know. The things you have done for the sake of our people and for our family should not be looked over. You have the heart and the mind to be the greatest King of our time—even better than Papa. I never wanted to be King, anyway. You are the leader that Westeros needs, not me.”

“What would you do, then?” Evgeni asks hoarsely. Denis shrugs.

“Maybe I could travel some?” He wonders wistfully. “See what the rest of the world has to offer. I might try to find a wife as well. I have time.” Evgeni sniffs and pulls away from his brother. Thankfully, he has stopped crying, and the red rings around Denis’ eyes remind him that he is not alone. His father may be gone, but he still has his mother and his brother here to support him.

“You’re sure that you don’t want to be King?” Evgeni asks cautiously.

“I have been thinking about giving up my Crown for years, Zhenya. It’s not the life I want nor deserve. If anyone should be Father’s successor, it’s you.”

That night, he awakes from a terrible nightmare that he cannot remember. He feels like he did as a child as he walks down the corridor to his mother’s rooms. He plans to knock on the door, but her door is already wide open. He finds her sitting in her favorite chair by the window, reading a book under the glow of the the candlelight. He quietly knocks on a wooden pillar to catch her attention. Queen Consort Natalia raises her head to see who has disturbed her, and her eyes soften sadly when she sees her youngest son. Evgeni’s bottom lip wobbles when she wordlessly stands to her feet. She takes his hand and leads him to her bedroom. Natalia lies down under the covers, making a space for her son to join her. Evgeni stiffly crawls under the covers and keeps his distance from his mother. Natalia sighs.

“Zhenya,” she coos to him quietly, “you are safe here with me. I know you are hurting. It’s all right, my sweet child. You do not have to hide from me.” Evgeni shatters his stoic demeanor and clings to his Mama. He sobs into the stomach of her nightgown, listening to her shushing him gently as she did when he was small. He is comforted by the sound of her heartbeat and the promise she bears to always love him, but the weight of the events that have transpired over the last day quickly overpower any peace he feels. 

“I can’t be King, Mama!” Evgeni cries. “I can’t! I don’t know how!” Natalia cards her small fingers through his unruly hair.

“You will make a fine King, my Zhenya. You are so much like your father. He would be so proud of you.” Evgeni shakes his head.

“I’m scared,” Evgeni whimpers. “I don’t know where to begin.”

“You are not alone. You have Seryozha and Denis and Sasha. I will be right here. I know you are scared, but I know you will be a good King. Have some faith in yourself. You are strong, and you are so smart. You have already made me and your father proud.” 

“He was angry with me for joining the Army.”

“At first, yes, but it was because you were so young. Hardly sixteen and you were already charging into battle with a fierceness neither of us could contain. But he was so proud of you. He boasted of your victories to anyone who would listen. He always told people that you would be such a strong force in Westeros. I think he always knew you would be King somehow. Denis had voiced his doubts to your father about being King just a short time ago. We both knew that Denis was never meant to rule Westeros, and when he came to us saying that he didn’t want the Crown, your father was relieved. It meant that we didn’t have to worry about hurting either of you.” Evgeni furrows his brows together and peeks a look at his mother.

“You knew Denis did not want to be King?” He asks hesitantly. Natalia smiles.

“A mother always knows her children best. That is why I know you will do well as King of Westeros. I have faith that you will make Westeros proud. I know you have already made me and your father proud.” Evgeni buries his nose into his mother’s stomach again and lets her play with his hair again.

“What if I make a mistake?” Evgeni asks barely above a whisper, almost childlike. Natalia is quiet for some time before she sighs and begins to speak.

“Every King makes mistakes—some more costly than others. As long as you try your best and you continue to do what is best for Westeros as a whole, you will still have the hearts of the people. Never doubt yourself or your heart, my Zhenya. I know that you will do great things.” Evgeni begins to cry again, holding onto his mother for dear life. She comforts him all the same, like she always does when he needs her.

And so, after two days of arguing with the Royal Council and finally coming to a decision, Prince Evgeni is officially crowned King at the youthful age of eighteen, forever to be formally known as Evgeni of House Malkin, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.

The Royal Councilmen believe that Evgeni is too young and too wild to be King. They fear he will bring endless war and chaos to their kingdom, that he will always be looking for a war. Deep down, Evgeni believes them, too, but he has a duty to uphold. He is King now, and he needs to at least give his Councilmen the impression that he is ready. He has no choice.

King Evgeni’s first order of business is to bring an end to the River War. It takes them another four long, bloody years, but Westeros and its allies stand victorious in the end. Of course, no one in the Royal Council is pleased with the way their King had scampered off to fight in the most dangerous war zones throughout those four years, but he always came back to fulfill his duties.

In lieu of this major victory for the strength of the Crown and his allies, Evgeni believes he is deserving of a vacation, and he departs for Essos almost as soon as all of the victory parades have ended. His mother and the Royal Council hope that maybe his trip will resolve the issue that their King has not yet found a wife, especially when Evgeni writes that there is a woman he has met and fallen in love with. He tells of her beauty and how brilliant of a mind she has. He swears that she will soon be his wife.

When he returns home, however, he is alone and heartbroken. When Natalia asks him what has happened, he promptly ignores her and locks himself away in his chambers. He wishes she would have come back with him, and he swears he could never love another the way he loved her. Denis tries his best to comfort Evgeni, and it helps some. Having some of his friends invite him to a night in the city is ultimately what helps him numb the pain. He doesn’t have to think when he’s drunk or fucking. He can just _feel_ and not worry of breaking hearts or having his broken in return.

Never again does he speak of the girl he loved; instead, he quickly retreats back to his shameless lifestyle of fucking whores and being a wild drunk. Though he is untamed and always seen in brothels and pubs, Evgeni does not let any of that distract him from his attempts to bring long-lasting peace to his kingdom—starting with a plan to create a permanent alliance between the Crown and the North.

“Our alliance with the North, despite the River War finally ending with the Riverlands and the Iron Islands, has not yet been solidified,” Evgeni explains to the Royal Council. “If we want to keep peace between our lands, then renegotiating our trade clause with the North, helping the people in the remote villages there, and ensuring an alliance in case either of our nations are forced into another war is the best way to make sure that happens. I am already friends with Commander Lemieux, so it’s not as if I am going into this plan with a blind eye.”

“Lord Crosby will hear none of it!” Councilman Alexander Radulov exclaims.

“I will have to agree with Alexander,” General Alexander Ovechkin says bitterly. “Lord Crosby is unwilling to negotiate with the likes of us, even if the Commander of his Army is your friend. Need I remind you that we are, in his kindest words, _barbaric at best?”_ Evgeni rolls his eyes.

“Lord Crosby needs us if he wants to re-establish his kingdom’s place of power in Westeros. Their trade has gone to shit since the River War has ended, and there is no other way forward except to form alliances. He cannot stand alone in solidarity forever.”

“He is just like his fathers before him: stubborn and fiercely prideful. They have all been like that for a very long time,” Sergei Gonchar, King Evgeni’s most trusted Royal Hand to the King, chimes in with a contrastingly calm voice amidst the chaos. “Even though I know you are right, Your Grace, Lord Crosby will not shy away from his pride long enough to do what is best for his people. He does not form ties with anyone for any reason. The only way you would most likely become a formal ally to the North is to either wait for Lord Crosby to die and appoint another Lord in his place or marry one of his children.”

“He only has two, does he not?” Councilman Ilya Kovalchuk asks.

“Yes. Only two.”

“Like Zhenya will ever marry anyone,” Ovechkin barks out with a hearty laugh. “It’s much more likely that he will have a line of whores and courtesans with his bastards than a spouse of any kind.” Evgeni rolls his eyes but laughs as his other Councilmen laugh with the General. Sasha is one of his closest advisors, the head of his military, and, at the end of the day, one of his oldest and dearest friends. Most of the men at this table are. Sasha stands out from the rest because he is one of the very few people who is allowed to call Evgeni by his childhood nickname. He is also one of very few people in Evgeni’s life who can mock him without receiving his trademark Glare of Death or the threat of having his body gruesomely dismembered. Head Councilman Gary Bettman whistles over the laughter of the men at the table.

“Back to the issue at hand,” he grumbles. Everyone sobers up and goes quiet while Evgeni discreetly rolls his eyes. He has never liked the old bat, but Bettman is somehow still in charge of his Royal Council. He needs to change the law that says the position as Head of the Royal Council is for life. It will save the King from any future headaches. “The greatest adversary you have in this predicament, Your Grace, is that Lord Crosby is wary of anyone who is not from the North, even the King of Westeros himself. He will not trust you, and, therefore, he will not formally pledge his allegiance to you.”

Evgeni begrudgingly knows that Bettman is correct in his assessments of Lord Crosby of the North, but he cannot help the small flicker of optimism burning inside him. Maybe it is because he is still young, inexperienced, and a fool, but he likes to think that it will serve him well in the future. He can pave a new way for Westeros to find peace and harmony amongst the regions. He cannot do it alone, though, he knows. He will need to build strong partnerships with the neighboring kingdoms if he can let his vision of a united continent come to life. There are many ways to keep peace and maintain trustworthy allies, but there is one ultimate, unbreakable way to solidify any loose ends.

“You said that Lord Crosby has two children, yes?” Evgeni questions. Gonchar nods curtly.

“Yes,” he responds promptly. “A boy and a girl. There is a fairly large gap between their ages, I believe.”

“Are either of them betrothed?”

“The girl is not yet arranged to be married. She is very young, however, and is not yet of age to be wed. The boy—well, let’s just say that he has openly shared his disinterest in finding a spouse for a while now. That is what I have heard, at least.” Gonchar pauses and raises an eyebrow at the young King. “Why do you ask?” He asks the question, but Evgeni knows that Gonchar can see the gears turning in his head. Though it has never been done before, it is not illegal for a King to marry another man. The only issue would be finding heirs to ascend to the throne. But that can be handled. The ghost of a smirk tugs at the corners of Evgeni’s mouth.

“Gentlemen, if you would excuse me, I have some packing to do. It seems that I have a trip to plan to Winterfell. I will be leaving King’s Landing first thing in the morning. Ovechkin, Gonchar—would you two care to accompany me for such a long journey?” Sasha narrows his icy blue eyes fondly at the King.

“What makes you think I would deny your offer?” Evgeni grins and turns to Gonchar, who only sighs to the ceiling before looking at Evgeni again. 

“If it means helping you stay out of trouble, then I assume it would benefit you greatly to be in the presence of my company.”

“It’s settled then,” Evgeni announces to the Royal Council with the collision of his fist to the wooden table. “We will depart King's Landing for Winterfell at dawn. I will have a raven sent to Lord Crosby at once to let him know of our upcoming visit. Meeting adjourned. Good day, gentlemen.”

 **/\\\//\\\//\**  

 _Winterfell should not be this cold in the summer,_ Evgeni mentally laments to himself as he and his camp are finally allowed past the gates hiding the Capitol of the North away from wandering eyes. The guards are much more stoic than his own, but he does not mind so. Sasha informs them of who they are and asks for them to direct them to the Crosby Estates. The guards are quick to comply to Sasha’s demands.

The head family of House Crosby is already waiting for Evgeni and his men. Their estate is much smaller than he was expecting, but they are a very small family. There is only three of them that he can see. Evgeni halts his horse and dismounts him gracefully, despite his gangly stature. He straightens his robes and his massive bear fur across his shoulders as he waits for Sasha and Gonchar to dismount and follow his lead.

Lord Troy Crosby is about as stiff and expressionless as Evgeni had expected, but at least he is trying to be polite. Lady Trina Crosby, the Lord’s wife, is very polite and charming in her most humble way. Their daughter, Taylor Crosby, is young—Gonchar was right about her being too young for a marriage of any kind at this age, for she is only thirteen—and a true warrior, if her stance and the strength in her grip as Evgeni shakes hands with her is anything to go by. The boy of the family, Sidney Crosby, is—

“Damn him for running off again,” Lord Crosby grumbles. Evgeni can see the faint hints of fondness in Lady Trina’s glare. She looks apologetically at Evgeni.

“I am terribly sorry for my son’s rudeness, Your Grace,” she says to him kindly. “I will make sure he is dealt with appropriately.” Evgeni waves his hand dismissively.

“It is not a bother to me. I can meet him some other time.” Trina's tight-lipped smile eases into an easier, more genuine one.

“Why don’t I make you gentlemen some tea while we have our men send your bags to your chambers? I’m sure you are all exhausted from the trip.”

The home of House Crosby is beautiful, large, spacious, and very well lived-in. The dark stone walls are filled with keepsakes and beautiful, bright decorations that contrast nicely. The fur rugs over rugged wooden floors are soft to the touch, just like the furs he possesses back home in King’s Landing. His chambers include a fireplace, a large, comfortable bed with the finest sheets and pillows, and a stunning view of the mountains to the west. The sun is starting to set, but Evgeni is not too weary from his travels just yet.

Before Evgeni goes to have tea, he, Gonchar, and Sasha decide to visit the military camp just a short distance away, several of Sasha’s commanders in tow. The General had said something about wanting to meet with the Commander of the Northern Army to discuss strategies in case they are faced with an unexpected war once again. Evgeni can see the tension in Sasha’s shoulder, the same one that he had a blade lodged in only months ago, as they walk towards the camp.

“I take it you will not be sparring with any young cadets today, correct?” Evgeni teases. Sasha grimaces as he slowly rotates his shoulder beneath his lighter armor.

“Not today, Zhenya,” Sasha sighs bemusedly. “Maybe later during our stay. I am not in the best shape to fight. The Royal Physician tells me to rest my shoulder for the time being.” Evgeni nods in understanding before turning back to the road in front of them. Sasha has never taken kindly to other people telling him what he should and should not do with his health and his body, but the new young Royal Physician, Sir Nicklas Backstrom of Dorne, is the only one so far to put Sasha in his place and to tell him to, as Evgeni recalls, “stop being so fucking pigheaded for once. You will die young and crippled if you keep damaging your body so.” Sasha was quick to listen to the Royal Physician. Evgeni wonders if it truly has to do with Backstrom’s medical advice or because the fiery blond is the only one who can manage to speak to the General of Evgeni’s army like he is an old friend or a very bemused spouse.

When the group reaches the military grounds, sparring matches are taking place. Evgeni recognizes Commander Mario Lemieux standing on a platform, risen above his soldiers so he can watch them more closely. Seeing Mario again, Evgeni remembers how the legendary stories of the brave Mario Lemieux running into battle seemed to come alive as he watched Mario fight in person for the first time. They met in the midst of the Battle of the Trident when Evgeni was only seventeen, and they became fast allies. They won that battle together, and they won several more as the years went by. Evgeni has not seen Mario since he was twenty and helping the North fight off the Riverlands in the Battle of the Seagard, and the surge of hero worship that had faded during the River War comes as quickly as it goes. Mario is considered a friend now in Evgeni’s court.

When Mario looks to his left, he grins at the sight of Sasha, Gonchar, and Evgeni. Mario steps down from his platform and immediately bows to Evgeni. Evgeni bows back. “Good to see you again, Your Grace,” the Commander says respectfully. 

“And you as well, Commander.” They shake hands and, formalities be damned, hug like the old friends they are. Mario then gathers Sasha and Gonchar in hugs of the same mannerisms as his embrace with Evgeni.

“How is your shoulder, _General?”_ Mario asks with a sly smile. Sasha beams, missing tooth on display for the everyone to see. He was only an officer around the time that Evgeni had been crowned King, and Evgeni had very quickly made Sasha the new General of the Royal Army after General Milbury's capture and execution. That old git never deserved his position, anyway.

“Much better than the last time I saw you, Commander,” Sasha replies. “Still not ready to see hand to hand combat, but hopefully it will heal nicely.” Mario nods, obviously pleased with Sasha’s answer. Mario hugs Gonchar as well and asks about the Royal Hand’s wife and two daughters. Evgeni casually looks around at the soldiers training. Most of them are young, scrappy, and even a little scrawny. Evgeni reminisces being a young, brash soldier, trying to fairly rise up the ranks. Even though he is not much older than these men, his soul feels many decades older than he actually is. Seeing these young cadets revives the itch he has been suppressing to go back into battle and _kill, kill, kill_. Ever since the war ended, King Evgeni has not driven a blade into an enemy’s skin. It is driving him mad with dissatisfaction and longing. His thirst to fight needs to be quenched. 

Evgeni continues to distractedly watch the warriors spar amongst each other until his dark eyes stop on a pair of soldiers, a little older than the others but still young and very fit, swinging fists and legs like they were born for combat. Evgeni tilts his head in interest as he watches the men fight intently. The one with longer hair and a pretty face is only slightly slimmer than his opponent, but it is enough to have him overpowered. He tackles his adversary to the muddy ground until the other man uses his powerful legs to throw him off. The bulkier man jumps to his feet, light as a feather, and the men spar some more. Evgeni is entranced, just like the other soldiers now surrounding the other two men. They continue to punch, kick, jump, and fight with such tenacity and fluidity, Evgeni almost believes it looks more like a dance than two men sparring in a muddy courtyard.

“Incredible, aren’t they, Your Grace?” Evgeni turns to look at Mario, who is smiling proudly at the pair of soldiers still fighting. “My two finest soldiers. They’ve grown up together their whole lives and fight better than almost any man I have ever seen. They blow me away with their grace. I will be proud to see either of them become the next Commander of this army.”

“You are retiring?” Evgeni asks in surprise. Mario grunts in confirmation and nods.

“I have a wife and four young children waiting for me at home. I have taken many risks with not only my health but my family and my men. I am far past my prime and it’s my time to pass down the torch. Few of these men are capable of taking my place, but I know who are the most worthy of consideration. Two of them are currently fighting each other like mad men.” Evgeni ponders over Mario’s words as he turns back to the fight. The men have their fists up, laughing and smiling at each other like they’re playing like boys in the schoolyard.

“You tired yet, _mon ami?”_ the taller, slimmer one taunts. His opponent laughs loudly—a strange sound for a laugh, but it sounds just as lovely as his fighting looks. Evgeni still cannot see his face.

“You’ll have to fight harder than that to wear me down,” the shorter man retorts in a smooth, velvety voice. His friend shrugs and runs to him at full speed. They spar again, more intensely than before, and Evgeni watches on like he is at a sporting event. The fight doesn’t last much longer, though, when the shorter man finally takes a roundhouse kick to his opponent’s neck, flattening him to the ground within seconds.

“I call mercy! I’m done!” The winner kneels over his groaning adversary and holds out a hand. His companion laughs and takes it. Both men are quickly up to their feet, laughing and breathing heavily as they listen to their fellow soldiers congratulate them on a job well done. Mario lets them all talk for a few more moments until he whistles at them to capture their attention. The courtyard falls silent almost immediately.

“Lieutenants. May I have you two come up front, please?” the Commander asks, looking directly at the two soldiers who have just finished their sparring match. They nod once at their Commander and step forward. “The rest of you: continue with your training. Dismissed.” Mario turns to look at Sasha and Evgeni.

“Come and meet my two finest men.”

The group lower themselves from the platform and are on even ground with everyone else. The two muddy soldiers are given towels to wipe away the grime from their faces as King Evgeni, Commander Lemieux, Royal Hand Gonchar, and General Ovechkin approach. They immediately straighten when they see King Evgeni and bow their heads respectfully.

“Your Grace,” the taller one with nice hair says somberly, eyes cast down. Evgeni bows his head back in thanks. The man grins at Evgeni and holds his hand out to shake. “Kristopher Letang. Second Lieutenant Commander of the Northern Army.” Evgeni takes the handsome soldier’s hand and shakes it.

“Pleased to meet you,” the King says. “You fight very well. I am very impressed.” Letang's grin spreads. 

“Thank you, Your Grace. Trained with some of the best.” Evgeni hums in agreement before turning to Letang’s companion.

“And what is your name, winner?” The shorter man wipes his hands and face properly with the towel and—and—

 _Fuck,_ Evgeni thinks, _what beautiful creature is this?_

“Sidney Crosby,” the soldier introduces himself with a curt bow of his head—much more curtly and informal than his friend, Evgeni notices—his dark curls bouncing with the movements of his head. No smile graces his uncharacteristically dark pink lips, but Evgeni cannot bring himself to care. “First Lieutenant Commander of the Northern Army.” There is a tense pause before Letang harshly elbows Sidney in his ribs. Sidney glares at his friend before reluctantly holding his hand out to shake. “Welcome to my home, Your Grace.” Evgeni tenderly takes Sidney’s calloused but very soft, lightly muddy hand and raises the knuckles to his lips. His deep brown eyes never leave Sidney’s bright hazel ones.

“A pleasure it is to meet a beautiful man such as yourself,” the King says sincerely before bowing his head to kiss Sidney’s knuckles, as if Sidney is royalty himself. “I have not seen someone who can fight as well as you. One of the best soldiers I have ever seen.” Evgeni does not miss the small blush dusting Sidney’s cheeks. Evgeni just thought Sidney was beautiful before. Sidney clears his throat and quickly pulls his hand from Evgeni’s grip.

“Thank you, Your Grace. Your words are very flattering.” His voice sounds stiff, like he isn’t used to hearing such compliments. Evgeni wishes to say something else, but he chooses to keep his words to himself.

“I hate to be the one to interrupt this little introduction,” Gonchar’s voice cuts in, “but I do believe that _someone_ was supposed to meet with Lady Trina for tea this afternoon.” Just like that, Sidney rolls his broad shoulders back and regains his military composure. Evgeni has never wished to stab his Royal Hand, but he is _very_ tempted.

“Then I should not be the one to keep you all waiting,” Sidney says formally. He locks eyes with Evgeni again, the beautiful hazel hidden away by the quick flash of gold. It’s gone as quickly as it comes. Evgeni is sure he would have missed it if he was not paying close enough attention. “Enjoy your stay in Winterfell, Your Grace. Hopefully, we will see each other again.” Evgeni can hear the hint of hope in those words, and he grins.

“We most certainly will, Lieutenant Commander.” The discrete blush returns just as Sidney is being whisked away by Mario and Letang, the three men walking back to the soldiers still standing in the courtyard. Evgeni groans at Sasha’s smirk.

“Only known him for all of two minutes, and you’re already gone for him,” Sasha teases. “Not that I can blame you. He is very handsome.”

 _Beautiful,_ Evgeni wants to say. _Sidney Crosby is not handsome. He is beautiful._  

**/\\\//\\\//\**

The next morning, the Northern Council, First Lieutenant Commander Sidney Crosby, Commander Mario Lemieux, Evgeni, Sasha, and Gonchar begin discussing trade, military, and alliance negotiations. To say that it is infuriating is a harsh understatement. Evgeni is starting to understand what Gonchar meant when the Royal Hand had mentioned that Lord Crosby does not trust anyone outside of the North, not even the Royal Family that had appointed his family as the ones to oversee the functioning of the North. House Malkin has never given House Crosby any reason to feel threatened in any capacity. That’s not enough to have trust in someone, apparently, as Lord Crosby is clearly demonstrating.

“How do we know that you will not send someone up here to come and tell me how to do my job?” Lord Crosby demands. “I have always done what is best for my family and my people, and I do not wish for them to lose any faith in me.”

“I understand your concern, my Lord,” Gonchar assures him, “but we also know that your livestock reproduction had taken a turn for the worst during the war and has been very slow in its recovery. We just want to help any way that we can before winter comes. We would only send people to bring back updates on the conditions.”

“You do not trust me to give you reports myself?” Lord Crosby sounds wounded by the statement.

“We would never think so lowly of you,” King Evgeni replies. “We need to think about the people above everything else.”

“I _am_ thinking about the people,” Lord Crosby insists. “We have made it through much more dire straits than we are facing now. So pardon me for not wanting to exploit the citizens of the North to your outlandish rules, Your Grace.” Out of the corner of his eye, Evgeni can see Sidney openly roll his eyes at his father. He looks much cleaner today than he did the day before when they had met. No mud anywhere in sight with his curls looking even prettier than they did in the courtyard. He also looks freshly shaved, his pale skin practically sparkling in the light that is shining through the windows of the strategy room. Evgeni has to focus his attention back on Lord Crosby so as not to be caught staring. 

“We want to build a stronger alliance with you and help the citizens of the North in any way we can,” Evgeni says. “I understand wanting to keep your independence, and the last thing I want is to take that away from you. This will only be temporary until we can all unanimously agree that the problems have been resolved.”

“It can be resolved without one of your men breathing down my neck every day until he has been satisfied!” Evgeni doesn’t even get the next word out because the First Lieutenant Commander pipes up and says:

“Father, they are trying to be thorough for the sake of the people. Not everything they say is a threat to your already wounded pride.” Lord Crosby looks incredulously at his only son, face slowly turning red. It’s no secret that Lord Crosby is not a brilliant military man, and he cost the North many good soldiers and territories early in the River War. The story goes, as told by Mario back when Evgeni was still seventeen, that Lord Crosby was almost removed from his position of power; but the Northern Council decided that any decisions based on the war would ultimately be made by Commander Lemieux. Lord Crosby has been trying to regain his status as the true Lord of the North, but it has been a struggle for him to be respected by his people as he once was. Clearly, his son also has no qualms with being brutally honest to his father.

“Do not disrespect me at this table,” he spits at Sidney. “Don’t you forget who is really in charge here.” Sidney only sits up straighter, defiance clear in his eyes.

“It’s not disrespect if it’s the truth. I know that you want us to be much more independent from the Crown than the other regions are at the moment. But there is a fine line between neutrality and stupidity, and we are walking that fine line as we speak, especially since _we just ended a war._ We have to do what is best for the people, not for our family’s title. An alliance and a little bit of help from people that genuinely care is not a terrible way to go about things. Our crops are not doing as well as we had hoped they would, and our livestock is not replenishing as it should. Children will not be able to survive in the harsh winter that is coming. We have to hope for a better plan than just waiting around and praying that the Old Gods and the New Gods will bless us with some magical miracle that will fall from the sky. And since you will not have mages nor witches come here to help us—”

“Absolutely no magical elements will be used.”

“Then we need to take this opportunity while we still have it. Winter is approaching much more quickly than we originally anticipated, and we need to act fast.”

“Sidney is right, my Lord,” Commander Lemieux intervenes on Sidney’s behalf. “We have been to the villages through the North, and the people are not doing any better since the River War has ended. The children are hungry. There is not enough sheep wool to make blankets and clothes because they are slowly dying off. That also means that there is not enough of other species of animals to create furs to keep the people warm and not enough meat to store away for the winter. The soil is not yet ready for a full harvest, and the crops are not surviving. If we want to help the people, we have to make some very serious changes to our trade policies and our foreign policies. Having strong alliances will do the North some good, especially if we have a powerful alliance with the Crown.”

Lord Crosby shakes his head slowly at the Commander and Lieutenant, chuckling humorlessly. Evgeni can tell that he is not convinced, even though Sidney and Mario both brought forward very compelling points.

“Father.” Sidney’s voice is forceful but careful. “Our independence is not going away simply because we need some temporary assistance until we can fully rise back up to where we were. But if you will not let them help, then we have no choice.” Lord Crosby snaps his eyes up to Sidney, cold and holding absolutely no room for argument.

“You most certainly will not,” he says firmly. “I cannot allow you to use your special abilities if I cannot allow anyone else to use theirs.” Evgeni turns to Gonchar, who looks just as perplexed as the King.

“Maybe if you didn't outlaw the practice of magic, we wouldn't be in this predicament.” Evgeni furrows his brows, even more confused now than he was before. 

“You know why I had to, Sidney.”

“At that point in time, yes. But that was many years ago. Times have changed. Not all mages and witches are bad.” Lord Crosby scoffs, and it only makes Sidney angrier. “For once, Father, why can't you just listen to the people around you? Things are not as they once were. Westeros is evolving, and we should, too. We _need_ to if we want to survive. Please, just put your pride away long enough to do what is right, not what you have always believed to be best. We cannot afford to pray any longer. We have to take charge. The Gods have given us the ability to act on the blessings they have bestowed upon us. They have given us honest help from the Crown. They have given us victory in a war we were supposed to lose. They gave me my gift. What more could we ask for?”

“Your _gift_ was not from the Gods. Your gift came at the price of a curse. Therefore, it is not something to embrace. You know this, Sidney.” Lord Crosby looks around at the men at the table before turning back to his son. His tone is much more hushed this time. “This is a discussion to be had in private.”

“This is the perfect time to have this conversation, Father, and you know it. Everyone here deserves to know the kind of person they are working with. You may be ashamed of what I am capable of, but I am not. It has taken me a long time to embrace what I can do, and I would rather be unapologetically who I am than who you want me to be seen as.” Sidney stands up and makes eye contact with all of the Northern Councilmen, Evgeni, and Evgeni’s companions from King’s Landing. Evgeni can sense the nervous tension in the way Sidney clenches his jaw before finally taking off his fur coat and draping it across the back of his chair. He cracks his fingers and rolls his shoulders, then holds his hands out in front of him, palms up.

The seconds seem to pass by slowly, no one making a move or a sound, until Sidney’s eyes turn that same beautiful gold that Evgeni had seen the day before, and a black and gold orb magically appears and grows in the Lieutenant’s hands. The table gasps, and everyone is talking loudly all at once, but Sidney is not bothered by it in the slightest. He lets the orb float overhead before making another one, this time a royal blue and purple. Then he makes a green one, then a gray, then a red, a solid black, and, finally, a blinding bright white. The orbs levitate over the men’s heads, and all Evgeni can do is stare at Sidney in awe, orbs forgotten.

“As a mage, I have the power to control the elements among other abilities,” Sidney explains, “which means I have the ability to help our people in any way. Of course, since magic is banned here in the North, I have not been able to use my powers to do what is best for our people. None of you can argue and say that I do not care for the people of the North, because that is all I want to do: to help the citizens of the North. Why else would I join the Army and personally make it my mission to take care of the people in all of the villages? I respect my father’s laws from years ago, but this has gone on long enough, and I think many of you agree with me. We need to do what is best for the people, politics and pride be damned. So all of those in favor of the ban on magic being temporarily lifted, say I.”

“Do you realize what you have done!” Lord Crosby shouts at his son, his face beet red. He reaches forward for his son’s tunic, shaking him like he is some kind of rag doll instead of the second in command of his army. The orbs vanish. “You have seemingly written your death sentence! These men have agreed with me for many years to keep magic away from our lands! What in the hell makes you think that they are suddenly going to agree with you? How could you be so selfish? What has made you become so fucking stupid? Have I taught you nothing since you were a child? Sidney Patrick Crosby, you—” 

“I.”

Everyone turns to Commander Lemieux, who has his hand raised and exudes nothing but confidence. The room is loud even amongst the silence, the lack of noise causing Evgeni’s ears to ring. But the silence is short-lived as more men raise their hands and say “I” to side with Sidney. By the end, everyone except for two Councilmen and Lord Crosby has voiced their loyalty to Sidney. Lord Crosby watches all of them with intense, rage-filled eyes. He stares at his own son for longer, the rage delving into hurt and betrayal, and promptly shoves Sidney harshly back into his seat. Lord Crosby whirls on his heel and storms out of the room. The slam of the door is deafening, but one of the Councilmen—Sir Shero, Evgeni’s memory supplies—speaks up.

“Well, since the majority has spoken, the ban on magic in the North has been temporarily lifted for you and you only,” he declares with finality. “While we trust that you have the people’s best interests at heart, I think we can all agree that it is too much of a risk to have other witches and mages assist you just yet. If all goes well, we will vote again on whether to have the ban permanently lifted once and for all—for _all_ mages. I agree with you, Sidney. The ban has gone on far too long. You have always proven your loyalty to the North, so we trust your judgment. We will adjourn for the time being and reconvene in three days’ time.” He turns to Evgeni. “Enjoy your stay here, Your Grace. We may still be in need of your assistance, despite lifting our ban to let the First Lieutenant Commander do his job.” Evgeni nods once in understanding.

“We will be happy to help in any way we can,” he promises. “We will be in the North for as long as needed. Thank you for your hospitality and kindness.” Evgeni looks to Sidney and doesn’t miss the small smile threatening to break past Sidney’s tightly shut lips.

Evgeni leaves with Gonchar to head back to the stables to tend to his horse while Mario, Kris, and Sasha all head back to the military yard to discuss protection tactics. The meeting ended minutes ago, but Sidney briskly walked out of the room as quickly as possible, most likely to find his father. Evgeni’s mind is still reeling from the discovery of Sidney’s powers and the anger of the Lord of the North.

“Did you know that Lord Crosby’s son is a mage?” Evgeni asks. Gonchar sighs and shakes his head.

“I had no idea,” he confesses. “And it looks like no one else knew except for Lord Crosby himself and Commander Lemieux.” Evgeni raises a brow as he saddles up Rhaegon, his pitch black Stallion.

“You think Mario knew beforehand?”

“You think he didn’t? He was very quick to jump to Sidney’s defense and the first to raise his hand in support.”

“That could mean anything, Seryozha.”

“Well, how else would you summarize it? After only two days here, I have heard some not so nice things about the relationship that Lemieux shares with Sidney.” Evgeni pauses from mounting his horse looks to Gonchar.

“What have you heard?” he asks carefully. Gonchar sighs.

“It’s best if we are away from eavesdroppers. Let’s get out of here before I say anything more on the matter.” They ride outside of the estate and past the military camp until they have reached a clearing far enough away that no one will hear them. They slow the horses down to a lazy walk and continue down a cleared trail.

“The things people say about Sidney,” Gonchar finally says, “are not kind. Many believe that he and Commander Lemieux are having the likes of an adulterous affair. Some say that Mario has groomed Sidney to become the next Commander of the Northern Army to meet his own personal criteria. And that the grooming goes far beyond the title of Commander. There are many people who genuinely believe that Sidney has not only been fucked by the Commander, but by several members of the Council, other soldiers of every rank, and even some Royal Advisors that have made their way up here once or twice on trips away from King's Landing. They call him _the_ _Whore of the North,_ even though there is no proof or enough hearsay proving that he has ever done such things.

“After watching the events that transpired yesterday and today, I cannot understand how people can simply overlook Sidney’s work ethic and strength. People want to believe that Sidney is not as capable as he is, and I have yet to comprehend why. It is disrespectful to think of such a powerful individual in that light. Of course, considering he is only twenty-one years old and First Lieutenant of the Northern Army, I can understand people’s anger. The rumors were most likely started by jealous soldiers or bitchy whores who were upset when the Lieutenant turned them all down.”

“A man that good-looking would never reject a courtesan,” Evgeni argues like he has made the most obvious point in the world. Gonchar scoffs.

“See, that’s the thing: he has. He does. He has never fucked a courtesan or a whore ever in his life. The courtesans around Winterfell have said it. The older whores try to tell the younger ones that he will never bed them, no matter how beautiful or enticing they may be. Most listen, but some don’t, and they get angry. And they, along with many others, always have something to say about Lord Crosby’s son.”

“You don’t think any of it has anything to do with Lord Crosby himself, do you? Because that, I can understand.” Evgeni already did not like Lord Crosby before even coming to Winterfell, but the way he treated his son this morning was absolutely uncalled for. If he is willing to belittle his own son and treat him as though he were an incompetent child who cannot make his own choices, then he does not deserve Evgeni’s respect. Actually, come to think of it, Lord Crosby didn’t really treat Sidney like a child. He treated him like how many man would normally treat a woman: second-class, like her opinion does not matter, regardless of her ranking, like she is only meant to be silent and breed and bear children.

Evgeni suddenly connects the dots, like a missing piece to the puzzle has just been revealed. He recalls what Lord Crosby said in the meeting, that Sidney’s gift came at the price of a curse. And the way Lord Crosby would disregard him or question him more harshly than the other men in the room—just as the Royal Council from King’s Landing would do to his mother, the Queen Consort Natalia, when she would sit in and state her opinion during their meetings. Why did Evgeni not notice before?

“Seryozha?” Evgeni asks uneasily. Gonchar grunts in recognition. “Do you think that Sidney may be a carrier?” _That_ catches Gonchar’s attention.

“A carrier? Like—like he is somehow able to—”

“Yes. Like he is able to be with child.”

“Your Grace! He is most certainly not a woman!”

“I know that, Seryozha, but remember that young man from Casterly Rock who was born not too long ago? The one who has cursed?”

“Are you speaking of Lord Marner’s son?”

“Yes, that’s the one. He is the one who is now able to bear children, even though he is still a boy. I have a theory that the same thing happened to Sidney.”

“By the Seven, Zhenya.” Gonchar sighs heavily. “That would mean that Lord Crosby has done something so terribly despicable to cause that kind of misery upon his own child. Lord Marner has been _exiled_ for his crimes against the magical beings of Westeros, and his son still had to pay a hefty price. Why are you choosing to ask for my opinion on your theory?”

“I ask you this because you are my friend, and I trust you. I know it is extremely rare for a man to become a carrier, even through a curse, but we also know that it is not impossible. It can be done—has been done. I could be wrong, but from the way you say people talk about him and the way his father speaks to him and regards him, that is the best conclusion that comes to mind.” There is a tense silence between the King and his Royal Hand.

“If you are indeed correct, Zhenya,” Gonchar says slowly, “then you need to be very careful with how you go about asking for his hand in marriage. Don’t look at me like that. I know that’s the only reason you came here in the first place, and don’t tell me I’m wrong. I have known you since you were a child. I know you better than you give me credit for. I see that you respect Sidney, but he will not believe it if you do not treat him as a true equal.”

“Of course I respect him! What kind of man do you take me for?”

“A very young, inexperienced King who needs to think like a King, not a lovestruck fool. Sidney seems to respect you, but you need to make sure that you treat him the correct way. It is the only way he will ever accept your proposal.”

Evgeni ponders over Gonchar’s words as they ride back to the stables in a much more comfortable silence. While they pass the military courtyard, Evgeni notices that there are no soldiers in sight except for one. The lone man has a sword in his hand and seems to be training in front of a wooden mannequin of sorts. Evgeni recognizes the intense gaze as Sidney’s almost immediately.

“Go to him, if you please,” Gonchar says with a slightly put upon tone. “But for the love, man, keep your pants on.” Evgeni rolls his eyes and looks on as Gonchar clicks his tongue and rides off in a cloud of dust. Sidney seems to have not noticed Evgeni’s presence, so the King dismounts from Rhaegon and loosely ties his reins to a tree. He cautiously walks toward Sidney, who seems to be tearing this stuffed mannequin apart with as much anger and force as he possibly can.

“If you hit it any harder, you could probably kill him,” Evgeni teases. Sidney whips around and points the sword at Evgeni, then sputters as he lets the weapon clatter to the ground.

“I didn't realize it was you, Your Grace,” Sidney breathlessly tries to explain himself.

“It’s all right, First Lieutenant. I enjoy watching you practice.” Evgeni thinks that he is maybe being a little too flirty, but the blotchy flush darkening Sidney’s pale cheeks gives him a little bit of a push. “You always train by yourself?”

“Not really, no,” Sidney replies, still trying to catch his breath. “Just releasing some frustration. I don’t normally go anywhere alone, anyway.”

“How come?”

“I’m never allowed to be by myself for very long. Father’s orders.”

“And why is that?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“You’re still answering my questions.” For the first time, Evgeni watches Sidney genuinely smile. His heart should not be racing as hard as it is from one simple gesture. Evgeni knows that it is not Sidney's magical abilities at play here. “Would you like to spar with me for a little bit? Give you something else to think about. I know the meeting this morning was not a fun one for you, but you should not be out here by yourself.” Sidney is about to protest, but Evgeni continues. “You need not be trapped in your own head for too long. It’ll make you feel like shit later. You need someone to help distract you for a little while. Also, I need to sharpen my poor, rusted, sparring skills. I haven’t been able to properly spar with someone besides Sasha since I became King.”

“How tragic,” Sidney deadpans just as his lips curl up in a soft smile. Evgeni laughs.

“It is very tragic! I know him far too well! I need new opponents every once in a while. What do you say to a few rounds?” Sidney thinks over the question for a moment before looking at Evgeni with determined eyes and a nod.

“Best two out of three.”

“Three out of five.” Sidney lets out a startled laugh.

“You really think you could hold out that long?” Evgeni smirks.

“I could hold out for as long as you want.” If Sidney was red before, then all of his blood must have rushed directly to his face to make it as red as it is now. Evgeni should really stop while he’s ahead, but he just cannot seem to resist the effect he has on beautiful soldier. He takes off his fur and hangs it off of a wooden post, then proceeds to roll up the sleeves of his tunic. Except the sleeves are annoying and he ultimately decides to take off his shirt altogether. His breeches and boots fit just fine, so he keeps those on. When he turns back around to look at Sidney, the soldier looks impossibly even more flustered than before. Evgeni counts that as a victory in his mind. Sidney clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck.

“I’m ready when you are, Your Grace.”

“Evgeni.”

“Sorry?”

“If we are going to spar and be in each other’s company like this, I would much rather call you me Evgeni.” Sidney bites back a smile.

“All right then, Evgeni.” And _fuck,_ if Evgeni does not love the way his name rolls off of Sidney’s tongue. “If we are going to be informal with names, then I will allow you to call me Sidney.”

“That is perfectly all right with me.” Sidney holds his fists out in front of him and crouches down low, and Evgeni follows suit.

“I’m not going to go easy on you just because you are the King.”

“I don’t want you to go easy on me.” Sidney shrugs his muscular shoulders and readily throws Evgeni to the ground when Evgeni makes his first attack. Evgeni gasps in a gust of air while Sidney is laughing at him from above. He could listen to that sound for the rest of his life.

“You said for me not to go easy on you,” Sidney reminds the King. Evgeni, lying on his back with the wind stolen from his lungs, grins dazedly at Sidney before getting back up to fight some more.

**/\\\//\\\//\**

Sparring with Sidney turns out to be just as wonderful and as painful as Evgeni imagined. He cannot move a fucking muscle the next morning and has to reluctantly deny Sidney more rounds of sparring. But Evgeni does come watch Sidney spar with other soldiers in his army and even some of Evgeni’s own men.

No one is a match for Sidney Crosby. The man is a force of nature. It matters not that he is much shorter than many of his own soldiers. He has laid every man flat on his face or his stomach thus far. Of course, then Sidney is challenged by his own sister, Taylor, and Evgeni is almost afraid to watch. Sidney could snap the poor girl in half, and she is so much younger than Sidney. She doesn’t stand a chance.

“Honestly, Squid,” Taylor exasperates, “you’re not going to kill me. There are female warriors out there, you know?”

“I do know, thank you very much,” Sidney replies. “Why do you still wish to challenge me?”

“To make me stronger and faster. Now stop stalling and let’s start sparring!” Sidney sighs deeply before getting himself into position. Taylor mimics him perfectly and Kris calls for the fight to begin.

Sidney is most certainly not going easy on his little sister, which makes Evgeni realize just how strong both Crosby siblings are. Sidney is several years Taylor’s senior, but she can fight just as well, if not better than, most of the men in the Northern Army. Evgeni would never fear for his life again if he had Taylor as his protector.

Three rounds later, Taylor has thrown Sidney to the ground and has his wrists pinned to the dirt. They’re both laughing as Kris and Officer Armstrong declare Taylor the winner. Taylor climbs off of her brother and helps him to his feet. It was a very close match, but Taylor eventually outsmarted Sidney better than any of his opponents. Even Evgeni, who had almost beaten Sidney the day before until he caught sight of the Lieutenant’s ass against his tight breeches. Evgeni never stood a chance after that. The King stands and congratulates Taylor on a job well done. Sidney beams proudly at his little sister and hugs her by her neck. She hugs him back and shakes Evgeni’s hand.

“Your sister is very skilled,” Evgeni comments as he and Sidney walk around the Crosby estate, several hours later. “I have never seen any woman or girl fight as well as she does. She would be a great teacher to the women in King’s Landing.” Sidney’s smile has not fallen once in the entire afternoon he and Evgeni have been together.

“She has always been spectacular at everything she does. She will do well as Lady of the North in succession of our father.” Evgeni stares at Sidney, surprised.

“Will you not be Lord of the North?” Sidney shakes his head.

“I could never be Lord of the North, especially not after that disastrous meeting a few days ago.”

“I wouldn’t dare say it was _disastrous._ The meeting ended in your favor, after all. I understand that Lord Crosby is your father, but you are trying to do what is best for the North. It’s clear to see that you care about your people and are willing to do the right thing, no matter how much it might cost you personally.” Sidney blushes at the praise from Evgeni and turns his face away to hide it.

“As kind as your words are, Evgeni, there are many reasons as to why I will never be Lord of the North.” Sidney is silent for several minutes, but Evgeni does not push. Instead, he waits for the First Lieutenant to speak again. “I am a mage, as you already know, and that has already caused me many problems in my upbringing. I was isolated for many years of my childhood due to my father’s fears of me possibly cursing other children around me, whether intentionally or not. He has always attempted to make me feel like this _gift_ —and I do see it as such—is a plague to our family name, to _his_ name, to _my_ name. We are the only region in Westeros that has continued to outlaw the practice of magic, and it has come time to permanently lift that ban, not just temporarily. If I do this right, I can bring freedom to mages and witches in the North. The ban will be no more.”

The two men have reached the stables and are now making their way through the forest to reach the river nearby. Evgeni wants to say how wonderful he thinks Sidney is, that he loves the magic Sidney possesses, how kindhearted and beautiful he is, but Evgeni does not wish to scare the young mage away. So he keeps his lips sealed tight. Sidney must take that as a cue to continue talking, and Evgeni finds that he does not mind listening.

“There are—other reasons behind me never becoming Lord of the North. I know that it would provoke outrage from the public. I know what people say about me. I hear the phrase _Whore of the North_ more often than I hear my own name from my people. I cannot tell you the number of soldiers I have had to beat to a bloody pulp so that they would leave me be and treat me as their equal and, ultimately, their superior, not as if I am some whore they can fuck and throw into the streets. And the things they say about me and Commander Lemieux—” Sidney shudders, most likely not from the cold wind beginning to pick up. “Sometimes I wish I could just hex those people and sew their mouths permanently shut. I actually did that once, when I was fifteen and just entering into the Army. Some prat two years my senior decided to say something disrespectful about Commander Lemieux, and I happened to be within earshot of him. Next thing I know, his lips are actually sewn together and it cannot be undone. While other leaders would have me immediately thrown out of the Army, the Commander immediately defended me and took me under his wing, and that was then the rumors began.

“People can say whatever they wish about me, but the moment they begin to antagonize and hurt the people I care about, then I have reached the point of no return. I lose any shred of self-control I have and prove to people my incapability to be a leader. Mario has scolded me many times for taking matters into my own hands, but it never stops my anger from boiling over every now and again.”

Evgeni can only imagine what Sidney might have gone through as a child, especially with a father as unkind as his. At least Lady Trina seems like a pleasant woman. He voices only that last part, and Sidney grins. “Mother has always done her best to keep tensions to a minimum in our home. Father and I have never truly gotten along very well, but Mother always tells me that it is in part because of how guilty he feels.” Evgeni has a feeling he knows what’s coming next.

“Why would he feel guilt?” is what he asks anyway. Sidney takes a breath and stops walking. Evgeni stops as well. They quietly look at the flowing river in front of them until Sidney decides to sit on the ground by the bank. Evgeni follows suit. Sidney turns to look at the King.

“My father was once a very young and very, very stupid man,” Sidney finally explains. “He was arrogant and foolish, unwise in his thirst for power and for things to always go his way. When the time came and he and my mother wanted to have children, it had proven to be difficult. After my mother lost two children before birth, my father was desperate. He wanted a family, and, instead of being patient, he sought after a powerful mage from the North to help my mother conceive a child. He specifically told the mage he wanted a boy more than anything. This mage was very much respected and kind, as my mother has told me, but my father swears she had evil in her heart. They went to her, and she promised to help as long as she and her people would no longer be ostracized by my father’s military. He promised her that, and the spell worked.” Sidney pauses and bites his lip, taking a deep breath before continuing.

“When I was born, I was not alone in my mother’s womb. I had a twin brother, but he was not strong enough to live after birth. Mother tells me it was a painful delivery, and she knew that my brother had died weeks before we were born. The mage had told my parents that she could not bring my brother back from the dead, much to Father’s dismay. He was angry at the mage, furious that she would not do anything to save my twin. But the rules of being a mage, as I have learned, are simple: never make people fall in love, never tell the future, never change the past, and never bring people back from the dead. As a result of his grief, my father went back on his promise and had anything to do with magic, mages, and witches outlawed from the North.

“He drove many families from their homes and sent them away from their native land out of rage. The mage told him that she held no contempt for me, but that she would have me pay the price for my father’s choices. In the end, she made me a carrier. I am second-class, like other women. No matter how high I climb the ladder of success, I will always be seen, first and foremost, as someone who can bear a child. The mage passed on her powers to me and, as a result of her grief and anger for the mistreatment of her people—and, according to my mother, for the guilt of forcing me to bear the consequences of the actions of my father—killed herself. If a mage kills themselves, any attempt to reverse their curses will immediately fail. I became the very thing my father loved and hated and could not be reversed: I was the boy he had always wanted, but I was also a carrier, nothing more than a childbearing thing that cannot rule in the name of House Crosby.

“Father considers my being a mage and a carrier both such high offenses on my behalf, but I have learned to accept that they are both equally a part of me, a part of who I am and always will be. I do not despise being a carrier, even though the monthly pain can become unbearable at times. I have learned to control my magic and use it for good, unlike the evil my father believes it only holds. Mother saved the spell book the mage once possessed before my father could set her home on fire, and she gave it to me when I was only eight years old. I have enjoyed being able to use my magic when I can, and now I can finally do what I know I was meant to do with it: I am able to help my people in our most desperate times as a kingdom. I have never been more proud of my gift and my curse. Though I will never become Lord of the North, I can still do what is right on behalf of my people and make good come from such a tragedy as war.”

Evgeni only thought he admired Sidney before. Now—the strings on his heart are being viciously pulled on like a puppet being controlled by its master. This blind admiration for the First Lieutenant Commander of the Northern Army has manifested and grown into pure, irrevocable love for the kind, simple man sitting beside him. Sidney did not ask for this life, but he has taken it in stride, head held so high that not a soul could touch him. He is nothing short of a powerful leader, a protective brother, and a humble man who should be so _angry_ with everything that has happened to him since he was a babe. And yet, Sidney has taken his suffering and made something good come from it. If anyone deserves to be Lord of the North—hell, if anyone deserves to be King over all of Westeros itself—it’s Sidney.

 _You deserve to rule alongside me,_ Evgeni thinks irrationally. _I can make you become the most powerful man in all of Westeros. I can make you my equal in the eyes of my people. We would become unstoppable. We would be the greatest start to a powerful dynasty. So many would love us and fear us. I could be everything you will ever need or want. You will never have to worry about my love for you ever fading. I will love you until the end of time._

He shakes the thoughts from his mind. He cannot ask Sidney such a thing. Sidney has worked far too hard and too long to give it all up and play the silent wife and bearer of children to a man who will travel too much and never truly become the husband and father he could be. No, Evgeni cannot marry him, cannot ask Sidney to marry him. It would be a cruel thing to ask of someone like the man next to him.

“If you cannot be Lord of the North,” Evgeni says, “then, above all else, you deserve to be Commander of the Northern Army. If anyone deserves the position, it’s you.” Evgeni turns his head to look at Sidney, who is looking at him with a soft, genuine grin. It makes Evgeni beam back.

“We’ll see what happens in the future,” Sidney says back with a shrug. He turns to look out at the water again. “Who knows? Kris may become Commander. He is much better at thinking defensively than I.”

“You are the best, Sidney. No one else comes close to you.” The pink in Sidney’s cheeks deepens in color as he tries to hide his face.

“Thank you, Evgeni,” he says softly. “But I am afraid that you are much too kind to me.”

“You deserve nothing but kindness and the most respect from everyone. You are a strong and capable leader. I admire your strength and humility. It will serve you well as Commander of the Northern Army.” Sidney worries at his bottom lip, suddenly looking self-conscious.

“You really think that I will be the next Commander?” How can Sidney ever doubt his abilities to achieve the goals he has for himself?

“If they do not choose you as Commander, I will come back from King’s Landing myself and use my power as King to make you Commander.” Sidney gasps dramatically.

“You will do no such thing!” It was meant to be serious and to scold Evgeni, but Sidney is laughing through it, and Evgeni is laughing with him too. Evgeni could listen to Sidney laugh every day for the rest of his life and never tire of it.

“You will become Commander, Sidney,” Evgeni says once his and Sidney’s laughing has died down. Sidney is still beaming happily, eyes crinkled in the corners and cheeks still that beautiful shade of pink Evgeni has quickly grown to love so much. “And you will find someone who will love you as you deserve to be loved. Any man would be lucky to have you.” And Evgeni means that from the bottom of his heart.

Sidney’s eyes become distant as he thinks and watches the water. Evgeni lets the silence take over. He lies back into the grass and watches as the thick, white clouds above him glide past.

“I hope I find someone who will love me too.” Evgeni does not look away from the sky, afraid that if he locks eyes with the First Lieutenant Commander, he will confess all of his feelings in one fell swoop. There are no more sounds for the rest of their time together except for the moving water and chirping birds. Evgeni lets it be.

**/\\\//\\\//\**

Evgeni has Gonchar send a raven to Backstrom back in King’s Landing the next morning because, honestly, if he has to Sasha continuously bitch about his poor fucking shoulder one more time, he is going to remove the whole damn arm from Sasha’s body. He quickly receives a letter just a couple of days later saying that the Royal Physician and his assistants are on their way. Sasha is thankful for Evgeni’s raven being sent because he swears his arm is going to fall off, and he does not trust the physicians of the North to properly care for him since their methods of treatment are not the same as _Nicky’s,_ as Sasha calls him. Evgeni scoffs at that last statement.

Backstrom arrives six days later with two changes of clothes, three of his assistants, and enough medical supplies to last him and his team all of winter. Evgeni greets him at the gate alongside Sasha and Sidney. Lord Crosby, thank the Seven, has been called away to handle an incident with the Night’s Watch at Castle Black, so the Northern Council has agreed to leave all business to be handled by Sidney and Mario.

“Your Grace,” Backstrom greets the King with a bow of his head. Evgeni bows back. “You remember my assistants, yes?” He gestures to the three men behind him. “Andre Burakovsky, Thomas Wilson, and Evgeny Kuznetsov.” All three of Backstrom’s assistants are tall and built like they were meant to be in the military, not physicians. Evgeni grins.

“Of course I remember you three!” Kuznetsov’s parents were employed by King Vladimir as servants escaping the tyranny of House Giroux that once plagued the Reach and became Royal Advisors to the King and Queen Consort. He is like a little brother to Evgeni and Sasha, and they were very thrilled to learn of his recent placement on the medical staff in King’s Landing.

“It is very good to see you, Doctor Backstrom,” Evgeni says, hugging the doctor he has quickly come to trust. “While most of my soreness has gone away, I do fear I may have caused some minor damage to my ribs. 

“And just what have you been doing, Your Grace?”

“Sparring with the men here.”

“One man, specifically,” Sasha chimes in from behind Evgeni. Backstrom peeks over the King’s shoulder and rolls his eyes almost fondly at seeing Sasha. Evgeni does not miss the way Backstrom’s eyes soften at the sight of the General. Sasha breezes past Evgeni and gently takes Backstrom’s medical bag, setting it down beside their feet. He then takes both of Backstrom’s hands in his own and softly kisses his knuckles. “I have greatly missed your presence, my Nicklas.” Evgeni is expecting a typical sneer from Backstrom and maybe even a snippy comment or two, but the Physician only smiles and leans forward to kiss both of Sasha’s cheeks and then his lips. Evgeni’s jaw drops.

Did he miss something?

“Let me help you with your bags,” Sasha insists.

“Absolutely not,” Backstrom says firmly. “You are still injured. I can take my own bags.” Sasha nods once, displaying his gap-toothed grin. 

“As you wish. Follow me inside while I show you your rooms.” Evgeni is left standing there with his mouth hanging open, watching as Sasha helps Backstrom and the assistants inside the estate. Sidney moves to stand next to him with a grin.

“You look surprised by their relationship, Evgeni,” he teases. Evgeni sputters at Sidney, and the Lieutenant can only laugh. “I knew that the Royal Physician meant a great deal to your General just by hearing the poor man lament about how lonely he has been since leaving his poor Nicklas behind in King’s Landing. It has been quite entertaining, to say the least. At least now, Alexander can finally stay out of our hair and not be a bother to us.”

Ever since their talk by the river, Sidney has become much more comfortable about being in such close proximity with the King, much to everyone’s bewilderment. Mario voices as much one night at dinner, but Sidney only shrugs and continues to stick close to Evgeni. While Evgeni has not minded in the slightest, it is only proving to test his self-control to not spontaneously drop to one knee right there and beg the young soldier to come back to King’s Landing with him to become his husband. It definitely doesn’t help when Sidney _touches his arm like that._ He doesn’t move, though; he just enjoys Sidney’s skin pressing against his. This may be the most contact outside of sparring he will ever receive from Sidney, so he will take advantage of Sidney’s attention while he can.

“Well,” Evgeni huffs, “that only means that I will have to move from my chambers so as not to listen to them while I try to sleep.” Evgeni knows Sasha well enough. Being at whore houses together during their war days has given Evgeni a clear picture of what Sasha is like in the bedroom. Sidney cackles.

“Worry not, Your Grace, for I have graciously moved them to the other side of my home for the time being. You will be just fine.” Evgeni smiles gratefully at Sidney and lets himself be dragged to the military courtyard for some light sparring— _bullshit,_ he thinks—and to discuss military strategies with Sidney, Kris, and Mario.

**/\\\//\\\//\**

When Sidney is officially approved to go into the remote villages of the North to help people in need just three days later, he asks Evgeni, Evgeni’s companions, Backstrom, and Backstrom’s assistants from King’s Landing to come with them. Sidney takes a couple of his physicians along with some more soldiers to help with any heavy lifting that may come along. Mario denies Sidney’s request to come along, claiming that he needs to stay in Winterfell to help Lady Trina and Taylor with local affairs while Lord Crosby is away. Evgeni can tell that Sidney is disappointed, but Mario assures Sidney that he can do this on his own.

“You don’t need me out there with you. I trust you, Sidney. I made you my second in command for a reason. You earned that title. This mission is yours and yours alone. I have faith in you. May the Old Gods and the New Gods be with you.”

With those words as a final farewell, Sidney, Evgeni, and their camp depart from Winterfell. They have several villages to visit, but they are prepared. Evgeni is determined make this mission successful for Sidney. If he cannot have the First Lieutenant Commander in his bed nor his life the way he dreams, then the least he can do is help assure Sidney of his confidence as one day becoming the future Commander of the Northern Army.

When they come to the first village, Evgeni is suddenly very thankful for calling Backstrom to come to the North for more reasons than one.

While there is not nearly as much of a problem with dying crops and livestock here, the local all-boys’ orphanage is battling a deadly disease that has all of the children infected. Boys as young as months old and as old as fourteen are all some varying degree of sick. The orphanage has been abandoned for four days now, and it was the place Sidney wanted to visit first. The locals originally did not want Sidney to come to their village, something about Sidney being the _Whore of the North._ If Evgeni has to hear that phrase one more time, he is going to behead someone.

“Do you want to be responsible for dozens of children being dead because you were too prideful and selfish to accept help?” Sidney challenges the head of the village. “If that is the case, then I will have you and every high member of this village’s council charged with the murders of every single child that dies from this disease. And _I_ will be the one to gladly remove every single one of your heads and hands from your bodies. Do I make myself clear?” 

That shuts everyone up very quickly. It also may or may not arouse Evgeni, but that is nobody’s business but his own.

The orphanage smells like death, and the poor boys are all begging for someone to put them out of their misery. It breaks Evgeni’s heart and will surely haunt his nightmares for decades to come. He has fought in a war and has seen many things through his life as a Prince. This is worse than a bloodbath of a battlefield to leave behind. At least those men are already dead. Sidney tells enchanting stories to all of the children as he lets Backstrom and the other physicians nurse the children back to health. Evgeni holds the children’s hands and comforts them as best as he can. He is not as compelling a storyteller as Sidney, but he does just fine. The boys seem to be so happy with Evgeni’s company anyway. Evgeni watches as Sidney casts little fun, sparkly spells to distract the children as they are being injected with all kinds of medicine. Sidney casts spells to help replenish the medicine, and Backstrom thanks Sidney every time.

“Are dragons real?” one of the older boys, Olli, asks quietly. He cannot be older than twelve and is sickly pale with white blond hair. The poor child looks only halfway awake and not all the way there. Sidney grins sincerely anyway.

“As real as you and I,” is his quiet answer. Evgeni’s heart slowly pulls itself back together. 

Sidney helps rock the only small babe in the orphanage, an infant named Jake and affectionately nicknamed Jakey by the other boys, and gently shushes him to sleep. The baby almost immediately goes boneless with exhaustion in the First Lieutenant’s arms. Evgeni looks on with a tightness in his chest. 

“He has always had a special bond with small children,” Kris tells Evgeni later after they have fully set up camp. “When Taylor was very small, she became very ill with a deadly fever that had spread throughout the North. Sidney stayed with her every day until she was better. He held her hand and read her stories and even helped speed up her recovery a little with his magic. To the children of House Lemieux, he is the older brother they never had.”

The next day, the boys are beginning to perk up, but the small babe that Sidney was taking care of is getting worse. Some of the locals call to have Sidney removed from the camp because he is not working quickly enough, but Kris and Sasha stand their ground and tell them that Sidney is staying, whether they like it or not.

“His fever isn’t going down,” Backstrom concludes after checking Jake’s ears and throat. “If anything, it’s only rising. I don't think he’s strong enough to fight this.” 

“There has to be a way,” Sidney begs. “Nicklas, you have to at least try something else. _Anything._ He’s only a small babe.”

“None of the medicine is working on him. I wish there was a way I could help. I can give him something to help ease the pain, but that is all I can do.” The Physician places his hand on Sidney’s shoulder and squeezes it. His usually cold eyes are full of sorrow. “I’m sorry, Sidney.” As Backstrom walks away, Evgeni watches Sidney reach down to take the crying babe from his crib and gently rock him back to sleep. Sidney sadly coos at the poor child before touching his forehead and letting him faint and rest his weary head on Sidney’s shoulder. Sidney mumbles something else into Jake’s temple. Suddenly, a thin puff of white smoke leaves his mouth and enters the baby’s ear. Evgeni watches as the spell overtakes the sick babe and Sidney places the child back into his crib. He reluctantly walks away and moves around the orphanage to take care of the other children. He spends a little more time with Olli than some of the others, but no one seems to mind. Evgeni lets the child he is sitting with squeeze his hand while Andre injects him with medicine.

The oldest boys in the orphanage, Conor at fourteen and Brian at fifteen, approach the adults only twice in the four days that Sidney and his camp have been here thus far. They seem to be the sole healthy beings in this vicinity. The virus must have already run its course through them. They only come close enough on the second day to show the men which children are the worst off and which ones have only just contracted the mysterious disease that seems to have solely plagued the orphans and no one else in the village. Evgeni voices as much to Sidney, and Sidney immediately calls for Kris, Sasha, Gonchar, and Backstrom to discuss this realization.

“How is it that only this group of boys have gotten sick?” Evgeni questions each of the men on the third night in their makeshift strategy tent. “No other men, women, or children living in the village have been infected. That cannot just be a coincidence.”

“The locals keep saying that the orphanage is cursed with bad omens,” Backstrom says grimly. “They truly believe that the Old Gods are angry and want to punish a bunch of innocent bastards and orphans by having them all die slow, painful deaths.”

“Welcome to one of the most heartless, narrow-minded villages in all of the North,” Kris grumbles. Sidney grunts in affirmation. “There has to be some sort of explanation for this.” Amidst all of this, Evgeni is watching Sasha. He can tell by the look on his General’s face that Sasha is working through many thoughts to come to a possible conclusion. He knows Sasha well enough that he could come close to finding the source of any problem without much prompting. It is one of the many qualities he has that convinced Evgeni to appoint him as the General of his Army.

“Do you think magic is at play here?” Sasha finally asks, turning to Sidney. Sidney sighs deeply.

“I wish I knew,” he admits. “I’ve been trying to come to an understanding of what it is that has these boys ill, but nothing can be pinpointed to an exact cause. I will look again in the morning, but the good news is that the boys are doing better. That’s what matters right now, and that is what we need to focus on. The sooner we can get this fever out of them, the better. We will worry about the primary cause of this later. 

They leave it at that for the time being because Sidney is right: the children are quickly recovering as the days wear on. The infant that Sidney has grown so attached to is completely healed after the third day, much to everyone’s surprise except Evgeni’s. Conor and Brian thank the men several times throughout the day, and Evgeni can see that they truly care about the children. If they did not care, they would not be here, helping in any way that they can.

The sixth day, Sidney sits the same men down in the strategy tent. Apparently, as Kris had put it, “He brings forth some new discoveries.” 

“Alex’s theory that magic was involved in the boys becoming sick was correct,” Sidney informs them. “I couldn’t pick up on the energy before, but once I did, there was no mistaking it. A mage was here, and they placed a curse upon the orphanage. The only reason that I didn’t know about it beforehand is because the spell was slow to develop. Therefore, it can be hard to detect, no matter how powerful another mage may be.”

“So this person let the curse manifest on its own?” Evgeni guesses.

“Precisely. Most mages cannot create a spell that tedious, and even fewer can actually have its power grow as strongly as this one has.”

“Is there anything that can be done to reverse it?” Nicklas asks. “The medicine is helping, but it won’t be enough. Maybe a chance to reverse it might be exactly what we need to kill the disease completely.”

“My spell books tell me that there is a way to reverse it, but it takes quite some time to perfect the counterspell. They are not all the same. For now, we will just keep doing what we have been doing and have patience. We have been successful thus far. In the meantime, I will be working on the counterspell to the best of my abilities. Even if it doesn’t work, the medicine is still helping tremendously with curing and healing the children.”

Evgeni does not see Sidney around the orphanage or the camp as much the next day. In fact, once another day has come and gone, Evgeni realizes that he has not seen the First Lieutenant at all.

“He does that sometimes,” Kris says nonchalantly as he and Evgeni are done swaddling the healed babe in the wellness area of the orphanage. “When we were just cadets, he would disappear for hours at a time without telling anyone where he was, how long he would be gone, nor why he would disappear. Commander Lemieux never questioned it, though. He always trusted that Sidney was doing something to help us best combat the enemy. He was not entirely wrong about that; there was only a few occasions where Sid wouldn’t have an attack plan scribbled across parchment.” 

“Do you think he is trying to come up with a plan?” Evgeni wonders.

“It wouldn’t surprise me. One thing is certain: Sidney never tells anyone the full scale of his plans without knowing that they have an extremely high chance of being successful. He is not a man who likes to fail. He won’t stop until he knows he has done everything he can to claim victory in whatever it is that has provided to be a challenge for him.”

Evgeni cannot sleep that night. He is restless, waiting for Sidney to come back from wherever he has gone. He is taking a quiet walk past the camp and toward the orphanage when he sees a hooded figure stand in front of the crumbling building. Evgeni almost calls for the mysterious figure to identify themselves, but he is stopped short when he notices a faint, magical blue shield of sorts is encompassing the entire orphanage. Evgeni’s eyebrows are almost to his hairline in awe. He wants to step closer to the person behind this protection spell, but he thinks better of it. Instead, he turns quietly on his heel and tiptoes his way back to his tent. 

He falls asleep easily that night. At least he knows that Sidney’s plan is in progress and is seemingly coming together perfectly.

**/\\\//\\\//\**

After eleven days have passed since they first arrived at the village, all of the children that were sick and had not yet died before Sidney and his men arrived have survived the fever and they are all well again. The source of the fever is still unknown to all of the villagers, a decision the leaders all unanimously made when they were sure that every fever had broken and would not return. Sidney’s counterspell must have really done the trick, because after the night that Evgeni saw him near the orphanage, recovery for the children was not as horrendous of a process as it was before. Officer Max Talbot decided to stay behind and help build a new facility for the orphans, and the village surprisingly allowed it. Sidney promised to send a raven in two weeks’ time to make sure that progress is being made and that Talbot is succeeding in Sidney’s absence. Several soldiers stay behind as well, and soon the rest of the group is off.

That night, the caravan stops to rest up for the next day that will be full of nothing but traveling. Evgeni is sound asleep when he is awoken by the small whimpers of a baby not far from his tent, followed by a soft and panicked “Please don't cry! I swear we’ll get you to Sidney!” Evgeni recognizes that young, squeaky voice. He stands up and looks outside of his tent. He immediately spots the silhouettes of two young boys carrying an infant in their arms and walking aimlessly through the camp. The taller boy sees Evgeni first as he tries to adjust the babe in his arms. Evgeni can see him pale in fear in the candlelight.

“And just what are you two doing out here?” Evgeni asks quietly, voice rough with sleep. Conor and Brian stare at Evgeni, horrified that they have been caught. Conor clears his throat and takes the crying babe from Brian.

“We need to find Sidney,” he says in a surprisingly even voice. “After you all left, Jakey started getting sick again. We didn't know where else to go. The locals won’t help us, and Max promised to send a letter to Sidney right away. But we couldn't wait. We’re sorry, Your Grace.” Evgeni can’t fault the children for running away. How can he turn them away now? They have come so far already. Evgeni grabs his bear fur and slips on his boots before stepping outside into the chilly air.

“I will take you to Sidney,” Evgeni promises. Brian and Conor stare at the King in shock. Evgeni’s heart melts a little. “Follow me.”

Evgeni turns around and walks past the tents until he finds Sidney’s. The Lieutenant’s tent is not hard to find, for it is the one that has magical sparks flying around it. Evgeni looks on fondly for a moment. He then raps his knuckles on one of the posts holding the tent in place. Almost immediately, Sidney tells him to come in, and so he does. Brian and Conor are right behind him.

Sidney is sitting on the ground, three different spell books in three different languages all wide open around him. Sparks of blue and purple swirl around his head and his hands.

“You should be asleep, First Lieutenant,” Evgeni says. Sidney narrows his eyes at Evgeni standing over him. 

“Sleep is for the dead, Your Grace,” Sidney retorts as he turns back to his books. “And why aren’t you asleep as well?”

“I was awoken by strange noises in the night. I decided to go out to see what it might be, and I happened to stumble upon these two boys walking past the tents with a sickly babe in their arms.” Evgeni gestures to Conor and Brian, who are watching sheepishly from behind, the babe starting to wriggle and sob in Brian’s arms. Sidney’s eyes soften when he looks at the children.

“Bring the babe to me," he says quietly and stretches out his arms for the babe. Brian and Conor sit down next to Sidney and hand over the bundle of blankets securing the infant. Sidney takes one look at him and swears. “His fever has returned.” He looks to Conor. “Have any of the other boys become ill once more?" 

“No sir. Just Jakey.”

“We didn’t know what to do,” Brian says sadly. “We thought that maybe you and Doctor Backstrom could help.” Sidney shushes the babe quietly like he did every day he was in the orphanage. “Officer Talbot offered to write to you, but there was no time.”

“You boys did the right thing, coming to me, but you will be facing severe consequences for your actions when you return.”

“We—we have to go back?” Conor is white as a ghost, while Brian looks close to tears. Evgeni’s heart drops. By the Seven, they weren’t even planning on going back? Sidney gnaws at his lower lip as he looks back and forth at the boys in front of him.

“What about the other boys?” Sidney asks. “Who is watching them?”

“Officer Talbot is with them,” Brian answers. “He said that he would take care of them. We told him that you would send a raven when we reached your camp.” Sidney blinks slowly at Brian before looking back down at the finally sleeping infant in his arms.

“So he knows that you are here.” It comes out as more of a statement than a question.

“Yes,” Conor replies.

“And he allowed you to come here, in the middle of the night on a new moon, without anyone to accompany you?” Brian and Conor glance at each other uncertainly before slowly turning their heads to look back at Sidney. Evgeni has to bite back a laugh. They look like they are being scolded by a parent, not the First Lieutenant Commander of the Northern Army.

“About that—” Conor begins but trails off when Sidney sighs. He looks at the whimpering babe in his arms again. It’s silent for several minutes. No one dares to speak. Evgeni can tell that Sidney is thinking of what to say. Evgeni himself has no idea what they should do in this situation. He has never had to deal with orphaned children running away just to find a mage and heal a sick babe. He wishes that his camp could keep the children for the time being, but he knows that taking care of them while helping the people of other villages will be a pain in the ass. Well, they’re not _that_ young, so they could watch after themselves.

Suddenly, a thought comes to mind. A good one. A brilliant idea, if King Evgeni would say so himself.

“Well,” Sidney finally says in a careful tone before Evgeni can voice his thoughts, “you have brought me the sick child, and I thank you both for that. But you will be sent back to the orphanage first thing in the morning.” The orphans’ jaws drop. Evgeni wants to interrupt and object, but Conor seems to have beaten him to it.

“But—but, Sidney—”

“There is no room for argument. My decision is final. You could've gotten yourselves killed out here. What if you had stumbled upon the wrong camp, hm? Not everyone in the North is as nice as my men and me. You could have been mauled by a wild animal, robbed by thieves. Hell, you could have been taken by a murderous lunatic that preys on children.” He darts his eyes between Conor and Brian as they stare shame-faced at their hands resting in their laps. “What good could you have done for Jake if either of you had been hurt or captured in any way or even killed? I wish you would have listened to Max when he said for you to stay and wait for me to send a raven. The very least you two could have done was have someone escort you up here. What you two did was very risky and could have taken a turn for the worst.” The orphans don’t say a word and never cast their eyes to the First Lieutenant. Sidney watches them pitifully. Evgeni can tell that Sidney does not wish to send them away. Neither does he.

“They can stay for the time being,” Evgeni suggests. All three heads snap up to stare at the King. “We can put them to work. Make them help carry medical supplies, keep the children occupied, anything we may need assistance with. They’re young but not young enough that they cannot be useful in one way or another.” Sidney raises his eyebrows. Conor and Brian look so hopeful.

“Are you sure?” Sidney asks. “I can have my men send them back—” Evgeni waves his hand dismissively. 

“Nonsense. They are safe here with us. And the babe will want to have familiar people with him, yes?” The boys nod their heads quickly. Evgeni beams. Sidney still looks unsure at Evgeni’s plan but doesn’t voice it. “These boys have not shown themselves to be liars or thieves. They will be of good use. And, since I am King, my word is final.” Sidney rolls his eyes at Evgeni’s arrogance, but the King can tell that it is fond. 

“If you truly wish for them to stay,” Sidney reasons, “then I suppose it would be considered disrespectful to not follow the King’s wishes.” Evgeni beams.

“Then it is settled. We will set you boys up in another tent and let you travel with us for the time being.” Brian and Conor are practically _glowing_ with joy and move to stand before Evgeni holds out his hand. “On the condition that you listen to everything Sidney and I tell you. You will also be taking orders from Second Lieutenant Letang, General Ovechkin, and Doctor Backstrom. We are all responsible for you, and we expect you to behave and do as we say. Is that understood?” The boys nod their heads quickly. Evgeni nods once. “Good. Now follow me and I will show you where you will both be staying for the night.” Conor suddenly looks very unsure.

“But—but what about Jakey?” he asks in a small voice. Everyone watches Jake quietly sleep in Sidney’s strong arms. Conor curls his lips into his mouth. “Where will he—”

“He will stay with me, of course,” Sidney assures Conor with a firm but gentle voice. “I will take care of him and make sure he does not fall too ill again. Now go with Evgeni so that you can both change into some warmer clothes, and we can all get some much needed sleep. You two must be exhausted.” That is Brian’s cue to yawn until his jaw cracks. “Off to sleep with you both now. Go.” Evgeni grins as Conor and Brian stand and walk outside. Evgeni is in step with them and halfway out of the tent when Sidney softly calls for him to come back inside for a moment. Evgeni cannot help but listen to Sidney. He sees Sidney, who is now standing, maneuvering Jake in his arms until they are both comfortable. 

“Was there something you needed, Sidney?” Evgeni asks in a hushed voice.

“Are you sure we can have them here?” the First Lieutenant questions worriedly. “I can easily have Kris send them back to their village if need be.”

“Sidney, they are not a bother to me. Are you afraid they will be a bother to you or the rest of the camp?”

“No, of course not!”

“Then I see no issue on the matter. They can stay.” Sidney worries at his bottom lip. Evgeni rests his hand on Sidney’s shoulder that Jake is not currently sleeping on. Warmth radiates through Sidney’s sleep shirt. “With the exception of Winterfell, they are much safer here than they are anywhere else in the North. We will all watch after them.”

“Are you—” 

“Yes, Sidney, I am sure that I am all right with making sure they are safe. They are not much younger than you and I. They can watch after themselves as well. I trust them. They are good children. Their hearts are in the right place.” The tension and uncertainty slowly ooze out of Sidney’s eyes and shoulders with every word Evgeni says. Sidney finally nods.

“If you trust them, then I trust them as well.” Jake chooses that moment to wriggle in Sidney’s arms and quietly whimper near Sidney’s ear. The Lieutenant coos to the babe in a voice that is softer than a whisper.

Evgeni watches Sidney in awe. The First Lieutenant seems to have such a special gift with children, even better than his mother, which has always been incomparable in his mind. Evgeni imagines Sidney rocking their restless babe until the babe finally falls asleep in their father’s loving arms. He wonders how many children Sidney would like to have. He heard Kris tease Sidney their first day at the orphanage and say that the young man would love to have a little army of his own, no less than seven children. Evgeni thought Kris was exaggerating, at first. Watching Sidney giggle and talk to Jake so as to coax him back to sleep has Evgeni thinking that Kris might be right, after all.

Evgeni envisions Sidney carrying their child, a small bump amidst his strong torso, complaining about being so hungry and tired and having swollen ankles when the babe is almost here. He lets himself indulge in watching Sidney feed their newborn babe from his chest and talk sweetly in their ear as he cradles them close. If Sidney were to ever conceive twins, Evgeni’s heart may very well explode with pure love. He wants that. By the Seven, he wants Sidney to be _his._

 _His_ husband. _His_ Consort. _His_ one true love. _His everything._

“Evgeni?” The King halts his thoughts to look at Sidney, who is watching him with curious, concerned eyes and a small smile. This Sidney has no evidence of carrying a child, and Evgeni has the momentarily irrational thought to change that. “Are you all right? I think I lost you there for a moment.” Evgeni clears his throat and nods.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you. Just—thinking about where the boys will sleep and what we will have them do tomorrow so as to keep them busy.” Sidney's deep hazel eyes crinkle from his wide grin.

“We will find a way to occupy them, I’m sure.” Evgeni cannot help but grin as well. He removes his hand from Sidney’s shoulder. He feels cold.

“Good night, Sidney.”

“Good night, Evgeni.”

Evgeni finally steps out of the tent, tempted to turn right back around and kiss Sidney silly and having to focus on Conor and Brian’s fast questions as they walk back to Evgeni's tent. Evgeni sets up two cots for them to sleep on in his tent. He chuckles to himself when they both fall asleep almost as soon as their heads hit the pillows, after claiming only moments before that they were most certainly not tired. Evgeni takes off his boots and fur, crawls into his bed, and stares at the fabric of the tent above him. 

The last thing on Evgeni’s mind before sleep overtaking him is the image of Sidney in white and a gold crown atop his dark curls, bearing Evgeni’s marks on his neck for the world to see. It is an image that Evgeni will never be able to see in person, but he indulges in the image in his dreams, anyway.

**/\\\//\\\//\**

Conor and Brian do, as a matter of fact, prove themselves to be useful. When the camp arrives at the next village, they help Backstrom and Sidney in any way they can. Evgeni is pleased with how the boys have been behaving thus far. The more he watches them, the more appealing it sounds to have them come back to King’s Landing to work for him. Learn a trade or two, maybe even become Councilmen or military leaders for the Crown one day. They are both highly intelligent in very different ways, but they are their own brand of genius when together. He voices as much to Sidney while the Lieutenant is watching after Jake, and Sidney grins.

“You noticed how they are together as well,” he says wistfully. “They truly are another dimension of their own. They would make fine leaders wherever they go.” Sidney giggles at Jake gurgling in his lap and makes strange faces at the babe. Jake shrieks happily and slaps Sidney’s face with his little hands. Evgeni watches Jake and Sidney fondly. Evgeni may only be twenty-two, but he would love more than anything to have a family right now. He prefers one with Sidney, of course, and he lets himself create a vision of him chasing around their large brood of children and having Sidney laugh alongside him.

He saves the thought for later, though, because Conor is coming back—erm, _running_ back—from retrieving wood in the forest with a worried expression in his face. “Sidney! Evgeni! I found something you might want to come see!” Sidney looks up at Conor, who is near the edge of the wood, before glancing to Evgeni. Evgeni just shrugs, unsure of what’s happening. Sidney sighs and gathers Jake into a proper bundle, and then he and Evgeni set off after Conor.

“I didn’t know what else to do considering the mother is already dead,” Conor explains quickly. “Lieutenant Letang told me to come find you both, especially Sidney.” Evgeni is about to ask what Conor is going on about when they finally reach the bank of a shallow brook. Kris is kneeling next to a dead animal that looks very much like a wolf of sorts lying on her side, a puddle of blood oozing from an arrow lodged in her neck. She is only freshly dead, Evgeni realizes, and there are little balls of fur wiggling and whimpering around her. Evgeni counts six pups.

“A Direwolf?” Sidney questions. “But how—”

“I wish I knew,” Kris says before Sidney can get his question out. Evgeni raises an eyebrow at Sidney. Sidney seems to know the question on Evgeni’s tongue before Evgeni even says it. 

“Direwolves are rare in these parts of the North,” the First Lieutenant tells the King. “They are very intelligent animals but also very aggressive. Father made it a law last summer that allowed the slaying of Direwolves if they prove to be too dangerous after a pack of them attacked a group of children just outside of Winterfell. All that law has caused is mass depletion of Direwolves and very rambunctious hunters. It’s a cruel law, if you ask me.” Evgeni can hear the bitterness in Sidney’s voice and feels sympathy for the poor pups that will no longer have a mother. 

“So what do you wish to do with the pups, Sid?” Kris asks.

“We’re not killing them, that’s for sure.”

“Then where are they to go? They have no mother. They will starve out here if the hunters don't find them first.” Sidney makes a face while he thinks. He walks over to the pups and picks up the white one with gray spots, the runt of the litter, by its neck and tries to examine it. Jake turns his little head from Sidney’s chest to look at the pup and eyes it curiously. Evgeni doesn’t even realize he is holding his breath until Jake reaches his hand out to pet the small animal. The pup yips pitifully but happily at the attention. Jake squeals in delight at the pup licking his face. Sidney beams. 

“They like each other,” Sidney murmurs more to himself than to the group.

“You cannot be serious, Sid. You can’t give a pup to a babe.” Sidney narrows his eyes at Kris.

“I had a Direwolf of my own when we were children, remember? Captain stayed with me from my birth to his death. A Direwolf pup would not be a terrible gift to give a child.”

“An orphanage will never go along with that.”

“I know.”

“Then why give the babe a pup?” It takes no more than a split second when realization dawns on Evgeni and Kris as Sidney settles down on the ground and rests the slightly blood-soaked pup in his lap next to Jake. Sidney watches the babe and the pup interact with each other, and—well, it is the perfect portrait of an adorable family in the making.

“You want to keep the child,” Evgeni voices wistfully. It’s not a question. Sidney looks at him.

“He has no family to claim him,” Sidney says simply. “And I have grown so attached to him that I feel like he is my own. It would be cruel to send him back to the orphanage now.” He looks to Conor, who has gone away with Brian to help load wood onto the back of a cart, and takes a deep breath. He looks to the other five remaining pups and then to the boys again. “Conor! Brian! Come here for a moment!” The two orphans glance at each other nervously before coming over and stopping in front of Sidney. “I want you two to each pick one of the pups out to keep as your own.” Conor stares, perplexed. Brian blinks.

“Wait,” Conor pipes up, “you mean we get to have our own Direwolves?” Sidney huffs a quiet laugh.

“Yes, on the condition that you two come back to Winterfell with us. Permanently.” Evgeni looks down at his feet and beams as well.

“You—you want us to stay?” Brian asks cautiously, thinking that he did not hear Sidney right. 

“Yes” is all Sidney says on the matter before the boys are thanking him profusely and turning to the pups. Conor picks the second biggest one of the litter: a light gray boy pup who licks and bites at the orphan’s hands when he holds him. Brian chooses the gray girl with white spots. Sidney raises his eyes to Evgeni.

“You should pick one for yourself, Your Grace. Direwolves are fiercely loyal and great protectors of their masters. It would serve you well to have one.” Evgeni does as he is told. If he cannot have Sidney, he will at least have something to remember him by for when he returns to King’s Landing. He picks the largest pup, a solid black thing with gray eyes, and cuddles her close to his chest. He scratches the top of the pup’s head with two of his fingers and laughs as the pup tries to nibble on them. Evgeni has no clue what to name her, but he knows that she will be fierce and merciless to her enemies and loved by her master.

“Well, there’s two pups left, Sid,” Kris announces.

“Do you wish to take one?”

“Absolutely not. Catherine would murder me if I brought home a Direwolf, especially around Alexander.”

“Just take them both,” Conor suggests, not looking up from his pup. “You are the future Lord of Winterfell, so it’s only fitting that you have twice the protection.” Sidney is about to correct Conor, but Evgeni intervenes quickly enough.

“Three Direwolves to master and a babe to raise? You will have your hands full, First Lieutenant.” Sidney makes a face, and Evgeni pokes the tip of his tongue out of the corner of his upturned mouth. “Or you could give one of the pups to Taylor for when we return to Winterfell. I’m sure she would love a pup of her own.”

“My parents wouldn't allow it.”

“She is old enough and responsible enough to have her own Direwolf. Didn't you say you had your own as a small child?” Sidney’s cheeks blush a pale pink. “If her parents will not allow her to keep the pup, then that just means you will have two instead of only one. Well, three, counting Jake’s own Direwolf.” Sidney seems to be thinking it over when Kris brings the remaining two Direwolf pups to his friend. They are both smaller than the others except for the runt and have solid white fur, one with striking blue eyes and one with deep red ones. They both tilt their heads at Sidney before attempting to climb into his lap with Jake and their sibling. Evgeni laughs at Sid’s unsuccessfully put upon face. 

“I suppose having a grand total of three Direwolves won’t hurt,” Sidney mumbles with a fond smile. Evgeni can see how attached Sidney already is to the three pups.

“So what shall you all name your little furry beasts?” Kris asks.

“Xander,” Conor says immediately. _How fitting,_ Evgeni thinks to himself.

“Zara,” Brian tells everyone with a bright smile. Sidney and Evgeni nod approvingly. Evgeni looks at his pup. She locks eyes with him and yawns, mouth stretched wide to show off her surprisingly sharp little teeth and ears still downward with puphood. She nuzzles her little head back into his chest and falls asleep right away. Evgeni decides on the perfect name for her.

“Masya,” he tells the group. He looks at Sidney. “You have three pups to name. Choose wisely.” Sidney grins.

“Well, one of them will be Taylor’s, and she will choose which one she wants, so I won’t name these two just yet. Jake’s, on the other hand—”

“If you name him Captain, I will stab you myself,” Kris threatens.

“Hey! Captain is a good name for a Direwolf!” Sidney protests. Kris rolls his eyes.

“Whatever you say, Sid.” Sidney looks thoughtfully at the spotted pup, who is now nipping gently at his bare fingers. He is so much smaller than his siblings, but Evgeni can see that he will be just as strong when he is older. He is a survivor. His strength is no miracle.

“Valerian,” Sidney finally says to the pup. “I will call you Valerian.” Kris beams. 

“A much better name than Captain.” 

**/\\\//\\\//\**

When they leave the second village, the sick have been helped and the land and livestock have been blessed to be replenished. No one is left behind to oversee anything this time. The camp packs up and moves on to the next village.

And the next. 

And the next.

And the next.

Their time spent in the villages are uneventful, unlike the beginning of their journey. Evgeni is never left to his own thoughts, however, with having Masya to train. Training a Direwolf is not as terribly difficult as one would expect; nevertheless, it still has its trials. 

“Masya! Stop chewing on that boot! Bad girl!” Masya tilts her head innocently, like she doesn’t have chunks of leather hanging from her snout. She is resting on her master’s bed with one of his shoes from his favorite pair of boots cuddled between her large, black paws. Evgeni sighs exasperatedly at her. He reaches forward and snatches the boot from Masya’s possession. “You chew up another pair, and I will make sure Sidney curses you to be bald.” Masya barks at the mention of Sidney, who she is taking a liking to. In fact, all of the Direwolves adore the First Lieutenant. They will all abandon their rightful owners to bask in Sidney’s attention if he is around. Evgeni cannot be envious of Masya’s favoritism for the beautiful young soldier because, frankly, seeing Sidney surrounded by an entire pack of growing Direwolf pups is about as sweet as it gets. Well, except for when Sidney is doting over Jake, but that is another thought entirely.

Evgeni groans, aggravated at Masya destroying his third pair of boots. Sidney has offered to fix them, but Masya keeps ripping apart the same pair every time they are refurbished. These are Evgeni’s favorites, though, and he doesn’t want to throw them away. He steps out of his tent and bundles himself further into his fur, burrowing away from the chilly night air. He turns to his right and heads for Sidney’s tent. Masya trots beside him like she is not the one responsible for her master having to trek through the cold to have his favorite boots fixed. Evgeni narrows his eyes at her.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” he grumbles. Masya, along with the other Direwolves, have grown very quickly over the past three months since they joined the camp. They are almost the size of normal wolves now, and they are very obedient and smart. Valerian is still smaller than the others by a good fraction, but Backstrom is convinced that he will catch up with his brother and his sisters before too long. 

Evgeni can see Sidney’s silhouette thanks to the candles burning from inside the tent. He looks to be hunched over his desk, most likely reading through letters from his mother and sister that were sent to him just hours ago. Sidney had talked of how much he misses his family back in Winterfell, but he is also very happy being able to help his people near and far. Evgeni almost knocks on the post when Masya suddenly begins to growl deeply from behind him.

He whips around to see what has Masya so angry, but there is nothing but dark trees swaying with the howling wind. Evgeni frowns at Masya. “It’s only the wind, girl,” he assures her with a few pets atop her furry head. The Direwolf is not convinced. She stays in place instead of following her master and snarls even more threateningly, a warning. Evgeni has never seen his Direwolf act like this before. His heart races fearfully in his chest. He reaches for his sword at his hip and curses himself for leaving the bloody thing in his tent. Masya barks loudly and gnashes her sharp teeth at whatever it is that has spooked her, and Evgeni is praying to the Seven that it’s only an animal in the woods.

He convinces himself as much, even if Masya does not move from her master’s side.

“What’s going on out here?” Sidney’s voice asks from behind. Evgeni turns to look at the soldier in his gray night robes and black fur. Sidney's head is slightly tilted as he watches Evgeni with concerned eyes. Evgeni has to focus himself on the situation at hand to keep from fantasizing Sidney with a gold circlet on his head.

“I think Masya sees an animal in the woods,” the King replies in a hopefully casual tone. No need to cause panic through the camp. “I was coming by to see if you could repair my shoes.” Sidney laughs at the state of the destroyed leather boots.

“I told you to hide them from her,” he playfully scolds as he takes the shoes from Evgeni. “I can have them fixed right now.” Evgeni heaves a relieved breath. 

“You are the best, Sid.” Sidney blushes and rolls his eyes.

“Do you want to come inside for a bit? I have some new spells I’ve been working on, and I wanted to show you the progress I’ve made.” Evgeni has taken on the role of being Sidney’s overseer of his progress on his magic during their trip through the villages. Sidney says that Evgeni is his most honest critic. Evgeni inwardly preens every time he thinks about it. And if Evgeni is not around, Conor is his successor.

“I would never reject an offer to see your magic,” Evgeni tells Sidney. Evgeni can see a dust of pink color his cheeks in the moonlight. Sidney quickly turns on his heel to enter his tent, Evgeni and Masya in step with him. The Direwolf has finally stopped growling at whatever it is that was in the woods, and Evgeni can breathe a little easier.

When Evgeni steps inside the tent, Jake is sleeping peacefully in his crib with some type of magical shield around him. Valerian has his head resting next to Jake’s, stirring the blond hairs on Jake’s head as he lightly snores. Red and Blue—how clever are the temporary names the two white Direwolves have been given until they all return to Winterfell—are lying on Sidney’s makeshift bed, snuggled closely together. Masya eagerly joins them, leaving Evgeni and Sidney to sit at the First Lieutenant’s workplace on the floor.

“Is there a reason why you always sit on the floor when you practice your magic?” Evgeni asks. Sidney laughs quietly and shrugs.

“Not really,” he confesses. “It just became habit. It gives me more room to spread my stuff around instead of having it all stacked on top of each other on my desk.” The mage’s smile falters. “Is that a problem?”

“No, not at all!” Evgeni assures Sidney quickly. “I was just curious. You intrigue me, Lieutenant.” The blush darkens and spreads over Sidney’s face. He tears his eyes away from Evgeni and fiddles with his thumbs.

“I’m truly not that interesting. I may seem like it, but I am never interesting enough to convince people to stay. I spent much of my childhood isolated, and my mother fears that my upbringing has done more harm to my ability to make friends than good. Despite how strange I am, she has always wanted me to be normal. Kris is one of the few boys that was willing to stick by my side. My friend, Jack, was also very kind to me, but his parents were not as fond. They moved away with Jack to Dorne several years ago. He still writes to me sometimes, but he is fairly busy.” Evgeni thinks about how mad he would have gone if he had grown up without his brother and Sasha by his side. For all of his faults, Sasha truly is Evgeni’s closest friend, almost like another brother to him, and Denis has always been a loving and supportive brother in his own right. He hates that Sidney never had a friendship with anyone like Evgeni has with Sasha or a sibling relationship like he has with Denis. It is no way to grow up.

“It must have been a lonely childhood,” Evgeni laments. Sidney shrugs.

“To some, yes. But Captain—and Taylor, later on—made things less lonely. He always liked to keep me company. He was originally my father’s, but when I was still in my mother’s womb, he immediately latched on to me. Not my mother—just me. My father always thought it was peculiar, but Mother never expected less from Captain.” He grins fondly at the memory. “She says that I have always had a way of attracting wild animals, especially wolves and Direwolves.”

“What happened to Captain?” Sidney’s eyes are distant, and his frown is apparent.

“Got shot with an arrow when I was fourteen,” he says. “I was traveling with Father to Dorne when a group of robbers attacked us. Captain killed two of them, but a third one was high in the trees. Captain never stood a chance. Father wouldn’t let me heal Captain with my magic for fear of our soldiers seeing. So I had to watch Captain die in front of me. Then we had to bury him and keep going.” Sidney laughs bitterly. “Couldn’t make the Lord of Dorne upset because of a dead animal.” There’s a bite to his words that Evgeni only hears when soldiers are not showing disrespect to Sidney. Ever since learning that Sidney is a carrier, Evgeni has begun to see just how terribly Sidney is treated, though most of it is subtle and indirect. He has had to suppress his violent rage more times in the past four months than he ever has in his life. It’s worth it when Sidney holds his ground and never lets them best him. Evgeni knows Sidney can hold his own. 

“Well,” Evgeni says cheerily, “I know that these Direwolves are not Captain, but they all seem to love you just as much as Captain did.” Sidney huffs a laugh and grins widely at all four Direwolves lazing around and sleeping happily in his tent. His eyes look happy and bright again, so Evgeni counts that as a victory. 

Sidney begins to explain his new fire spell in great detail. He shows the original spell in the thickest and oldest book from the pile and demonstrates it—flames sprouting from his fingertips in a low glow—for Evgeni before explaining the differences and adjustments he has made on the spell. Evgeni never misses a word. He asks questions at the right time and hangs on to everything Sidney says. He gasps when Sidney casts his new spell to show fire engulfing his hands and wrists but not singeing his clothes or the hair on his skin.

“That’s not even the best part,” Sidney brags. He smirks and focuses his energy on the fire growing between his hands. Evgeni has seen Sidney create orbs of fire before, but this one somehow feels different from the rest. The energy is stronger, tenser, and the heat from the flames is making Evgeni sweat. He cannot bring himself to move or look away. He is too awestruck at the power Sidney holds.

“I can fire it at something if I please,” Sidney says suddenly, breaking Evgeni from his reverie, “almost like throwing a ball, but I have not had the chance to try just yet. Maybe I will if the opportunity ever arises.” Evgeni is torn over whether he wants it to be sooner rather than later. The flames die out all at once, and the two men are left in darkness, sans the dim candlelight sitting on the edge of Sidney’s makeshift desk. The silence is serene, but Evgeni can feel the tension steadily rising like the tide. He looks into Sidney’s beautiful, brown eyes and holds the mage’s gaze for an unknown period of time. He doesn’t notice how close they have gotten until Sidney’s warm breath tickles his collarbone. Sidney has to tilt his head up a little more to keep his eyes connected with Evgeni’s; Evgeni swears Sidney can hear his heart beating out of his throat. His body pulses with longing and desire. Willpower miraculously overrides every instinct he has to reach for Sidney and just— _take._

“You are unlike any man I have ever met, Evgeni,” Sidney whispers. His fingertips ghost over Evgeni’s knuckles, barely a touch. Evgeni shivers. “You have been far too kind to me—kinder than I ever would've thought.” The younger man’s pupils are dilating more and more with every word that drips seductively from his mouth. Gods, Evgeni could never love another like he loves Sidney. “I have never been more grateful for someone like you coming to Winterfell. These past few months have given me the happiest memories of my life. I can only hope you feel the same.” Evgeni bites his lip to hold back any embarrassing noises, holding his breath as Sidney closes his eyes and shakily breathes into Evgeni's skin.

“Sidney—” Evgeni’s voice has gone rough with an overwhelming lust vibrating beneath the surface. Sidney opens his eyes for the King, looking every part of the debauched, happy, thoroughly fucked Consort Evgeni wishes for him to be. He could give Sidney all of the jewels in the world if it meant making this lovely creature smile and come to bed with him every night. Evgeni slowly reaches to cup Sidney’s cheek with his hand. He doesn’t expect Sidney’s breath to hitch in a quiet whimper.

 _“Evgeni.”_ His voice is breathless, but Evgeni knows an invitation when he hears it. And how could he ever deny Sidney anything his heart desires?

The Direwolves snarl and bark loudly and so suddenly, breaking the reverie between Sidney and Evgeni. Sidney’s eyes divert away from Evgeni’s to the left of the King’s head for only a fraction of a second. Everything after that is chaos. 

Four hooded figures rush into the tent, knives out and ready to attack. Sidney and Evgeni are at their feet in seconds. Evgeni only manages to dodge one assailant’s gleaming knife and grabs his arm. He elbows a second man from behind while he twists the first man’s wrist. The man yelps and drops his knife, but his other fist connects with Evgeni’s cheek. Evgeni just manages to keep his vision from swimming when he sees both men coming for him. The blur of Masya tackling one of them to the ground helps Evgeni focus on the other attacker running to him, ready to fight.

Evgeni fights with everything that he has. Every blow, every kick, every block is precise and does the damage he needs it to. However, his attacker is just as skilled as him, and Evgeni is just as damaged when he feels a leg sweep across his ankles. He cries out as his back collides with the ground with a thud. He tries to get back up again, but his opponent is too quick. He pins Evgeni to the ground with a knee to the chest and a hand to his throat. Evgeni desperately gasps for air, but the hand squeezes his throat almost closed. The knee digs into his sternum. He can’t move. He’s trapped. The man leans his face down close to Evgeni’s and chuckles darkly. There are spots dotting Evgeni’s vision. He blinks back the involuntary tears and darts his eyes around for something, _anything,_ to best his demise.

That's when he spots it. _A knife._

Evgeni’s arm feels heavy and weak as he reaches for the knife. The damn thing is so close yet so far. He can’t hear Sidney’s grunts from fighting nor the Direwolves’ howls and barks. Everything is fading quickly, too quickly for him to keep up. He feels the cold steel of the blade touch the tips of his fingers. His desperation heightens as he quickly pulls the knife closer to him. He spins the blade around and gets a firm grasp of the handle.

“Long live the King of the Riverlands!”

Evgeni surges his arm up and lodges the knife into his attacker’s neck. Blood splatters across the fabric of the tent. The man gasps and chokes in shock, his grip loosening on Evgeni’s throat. Evgeni pulls the knife from the man’s throat and reaches forward to stab him in the heart. More blood pours from the wound in the attacker’s neck and now his chest. Evgeni throws his attacker off of him. He gasps and coughs for more air to be brought into his lungs, curling in on himself and turning onto his side. It takes several moments of heavy gasping and breathing, but he feels himself coming back around. As he attempts to stand, a sharp pain below his ribs has him doubling over. He clutches his injured side and freezes when he feels something warm and wet seeping through his clothes and between his fingers. He doesn’t have to look down at his side to see what it is.

The room starts to sway and multiply and he just manages to stop himself from falling. Instead, he staggers and catches himself on Sidney’s desk. His hand is soaked; drops are falling onto his bare feet. His knees hit the ground before he can try to sit.

“Evgeni?” The faint voice only sounds familiar until it calls for him again. “Evgeni! Oh Gods!”

“What’s happened?” _Sasha?_

“Get help! Go get Nicklas now!”

There is distant shouting, the cries of a babe, the howling of wolves, and the pounding of feet all around him, but Evgeni can’t pay attention anymore. Everything feels fuzzy and far away. His breathing is labored. He has no idea what is happening, but he appreciates someone helping lay him out and resting his head on another person’s thighs. Soft fingers brush his hair back from his sweaty forehead. Evgeni’s brain finally catches up with him in time to see Sidney’s face above him, dark eyes wild with a look Evgeni has only ever seen on the battlefield.

“Sid—” Evgeni tries to say, but his voice is too broken.

“Don’t say anything,” Sidney commands him in a soft voice. “Kris and Nicklas are coming. You’re going to be all right, Evgeni.” Evgeni’s mind clears up with every passing second. There are blood specks splattered across Sidney’s delicate cheekbones. The First Lieutenant’s hand is tightly gripping Evgeni's own. The King doesn’t wish for Sidney to let go. He weakly squeezes his hand back. Sidney’s smile is blinding. The last thing he sees before everything goes dark is the flash of gold appearing in Sidney’s eyes. 

**/\\\//\\\//\**

The first thing Evgeni notices when he awakes is the warm ball of black fur lying halfway on top of his stomach. Masya is sleeping deeply while resting protectively over her master. Evgeni mildly envies her for being able to sleep so well.

The second thing is how bright the sun is. He lifts his hand to shield his tired eyes from the light, groaning when it can only do him so much.

The third thing is that someone else is there with him.

He snaps his head to his left and sags with relief when he recognizes Gonchar sitting on a stool and staring at Evgeni. Gonchar looks worn, like his age is finally beginning to catch up with him. His somber face lightens up, though, as soon as he realizes Evgeni is awake. 

“Thank the Seven you’re awake, Zhenya,” he says quietly but frantically. Evgeni is thankful for the softness of his Royal Hand’s voice.

“What happened?” Evgeni croaks. He tries to sit up but groans pitifully and lies back down. His side is throbbing in agony, and his throat is sore.

“Easy. You need to rest.”

“Sidney—”

“Sidney is fine.” Evgeni has never been more grateful to have Gonchar be able to read him like an open book. “He has sent a letter to Lord Crosby and to your mother and brother to let them know that you are recovering nicely. Of course, he chose to inform them of the severity of your injuries, but Sidney and Nicklas both believe that you will make a quick and full recovery. I explained to Sidney and the rest of the men who know what happened that we are not allowing the news of your assassination to be released. We have told the other men in the camp that you have fallen ill. I know that you are very particular about people knowing of your assassination attempts.” Evgeni’s head is spinning too much for him to comprehend much of what Gonchar is saying, but he knows that the news his Royal Hand has given him is good.

“How long have I been asleep?” 

“Only a day or so. You have been coming into and out of consciousness, which has pleased everyone here.” Evgeni stares at the ceiling of the tent and sighs deeply. “You scared the shit out of me, Zhenya.” Evgeni’s heart is uneasy at the emotional statement made by his Hand. “Sasha, too. We thought for sure that you were dead with how much blood you lost. If Sidney had not been there—” Gonchar trails off before he can finish. Evgeni has to look away from his friend. His emotions are running too high for him to think properly. His head is killing him, his throat is sore, and his side is still throbbing. He wants to go back to sleep, almost as much as he wants to see Sidney. Gonchar seems to catch on to Evgeni’s silence very quickly. “Do you want me to find Sidney for you?” Evgeni nods his head slowly. Gonchar quietly steps out of the tent, and Evgeni is finally alone, sans a still sleeping Masya. He lazily scratches behind Masya’s ear, despite his arm feeling weak and stiff. Masya rumbles happily and snuggles her head just a little more into Evgeni’s uninjured side.

“I thought Sergei was playing tricks on me.” Evgeni slowly turns his head to look at who has entered his tent. Sidney, with his weary eyes and bloody clothes, smiles softly at the King. Evgeni truly believes he will never see another man more beautiful than the creature that stands before him. Sidney slowly steps inside and takes the seat where Gonchar sat just minutes before. He continues to speak. “I thought that I might have been too late to save you, but thank the Gods you are alive. The last thing Westeros needs is a dead King with no heir apparent.” If Evgeni didn't know any better, he would think that Sidney is perfectly happy and unaffected. But even in this condition, he can see the way the mage’s hands tremble ever so slightly, the tension in his hunched shoulders, the forcefulness of his wide grin. Evgeni may be many things, but a fool, he is not.

“You need sleep, Sidney,” Evgeni rasps. His voice is still very much broken, but a canteen of water from Sidney helps some. Masya stirs fully awake and nudges Sidney’s hand with her snout so he can pet her. Sidney sighs quietly and pets Masya’s fur. Neither man says a word for some time, just resting in each other’s company.

“It’s my fault that you were hurt,” Sidney suddenly says. Evgeni blinks incredulously at him. Sidney doesn't look up from where he is scratching Masya’s ear. “Normally, I can see when an attack like that is coming. I don't know how I could have missed it.” 

“Sidney—”

“You almost _died_ because of me.” There is a small break in his voice that he tries to hide, but Evgeni hears it. Sidney’s hands still shake as he hunches in on himself. “If it wasn't for me, none of this would have happened. I let myself become vulnerable, and you almost paid the price for it. Fuck, you _still_ paid the price for it.” Sidney stops stroking Masya’s fur and huffs wetly over and over. Evgeni reaches for Sidney’s hand with his own. He firmly grasps it as tightly as he can.

“Sidney,” he says, “please don't place all of this blame upon your shoulders. You are still a brilliant soldier and a very powerful mage. You still saved my life, in the end; and for that, I am forever in your debt.” Evgeni gently squeezes Sidney’s hand. Sidney continues to stay silent. “You are a good man with a sharp mind and a pure heart. You have done so many good things for your people and the soldiers under your command. I do not fault you for your actions last night. If all else, I _applaud_ you. No other could have done what you did.” 

Sidney remains silent under Evgeni’s praises. Evgeni learned very quickly after coming to Winterfell that Sidney has never been thought so highly of by many. Even fewer have voiced their loyalties and praises to the First Lieutenant. More often than not, Sidney has been insulted, belittled, and taunted for things that are either out of his control or simply not true. Evgeni has always admired the way Sidney never lets those words affect him like they would do so to Evgeni himself. It is disheartening, still, to see this kind, loyal, beautiful man be treated as if he is less than slaughtered meat—and all because of the sins of his father.

“You should return to King’s Landing as soon as you are healed,” is Sidney’s eventual response. Evgeni stares blankly. What is he supposed to say to a statement like that? All he knows is that he can feel his heart slowly cracking like glass. “You’re not safe here with me. I have proven to be nothing but a distraction to you and a bad omen to your health. I have caused you nothing but physical pain and suffering since you first arrived at Winterfell.

“And—you need to find a good wife who will love you and bear healthy heirs to the Iron Throne for you. You don’t need to be here with me. You are the King of Westeros. You should not be seen being friendly with the _Whore of the North._ You deserve nothing but the utmost respect from those who call you King. I would only tarnish your name and the name of your family.”

If Evgeni had the strength, he would be throwing things in a fit of frustration. Why must Sidney be so fucking _stubborn?_ Instead of screaming furiously until his lungs cannot take anymore, Evgeni slowly forces himself to sit up in his bed. Sidney reaches for him and tuts at him to lie back down, but Evgeni doesn’t listen. He finds a comfortable sitting position and holds Sidney’s dull hazel eyes with his stormy brown ones.

“Are you really a whore?” Evgeni asks. Sidney furrows his brows.

“I can't seem to know what you mean, Your Grace.” Evgeni cannot begin to describe how much of a bite that was to his poor heart.

“You know exactly what I am asking of you. Tell me the truth, Sidney: are you a whore or not?” Sidney bows his head to look away, but Evgeni is quick to catch his chin with his thumb and index fingers and jerk Sidney’s head up to look at him again. “Look me in the eyes and be honest. I will not condemn you for your answer, whatever it may be. But please, _Sidney,_ just tell me. Don’t lie to me.”

Tears gather in the corners of Sidney’s angry, reddening eyes. He tries to blink them away, but the drops are quick to cascade down his sharp cheekbones.

“Would you truly believe me if I told you that I wasn’t a whore?” he asks through gritted teeth. He tears himself from Evgeni’s grip on his chin. “That I have never even laid with another man or woman? That I have never been touched by another man or woman? Would you? No one else does. No one else ever will. I am a whore in their beady little eyes, even if I am not actually one. These people will always believe what is said about me and how I have achieved everything that I have by being fucked by the only man who gave me a chance to prove my worth as something more than just something to fuck. To him, I am a trustworthy soldier that he trusts with his life and the lives of his wife and children. I am like a son to him, so he tells me.

“But to the rest of the North, I am not a respected Lieutenant Commander of the Northern Army. I am not Lord Troy Crosby’s son, the successor to the title of Lord of the North. To everyone in this forsaken land, I am only a body to be used to fuck and breed and then fuck some more and then breed _even more_ until I am no longer useful to bear children for some fucking lowlife who will probably drink too much and remind me _every day for the rest of my miserable life_ just how worthless I am, save for my childbearing hips and beautiful mouth meant for more purposeful acts that don’t involve speaking—except to beg to be fucked _harder_ and _faster_ and _oh Gods, I am yours to fuck for the rest of my days!”_ Sidney moans those final words as though he _is_ a whore, and Evgeni can’t bother to be aroused by it.

By this time, Sidney has risen to his feet and is pacing through the tent, his voice getting louder and much more broken with every word that comes from his mouth. The tears flow more freely, and all Evgeni can do is helplessly watch Sidney’s normally charming and strong façade finally shatter. “So even if I said that I was not a whore, I know that you would not believe me! No one has ever believed me—even those who know me best! To them, and to everyone else, I will never be anything other than a body with a strong bloodline to be bred! Even if I were to become Commander of the Northern Army, I would never be taken seriously! Even as the most superior officer in one of the best militaries in all of Westeros, I would be less than equal to even the lowest ranked cadet! I say all of this to help you understand: I would be nothing more than a stain to the Malkin name and to your honor! I cannot let you be associated with me! You deserve better than that!”

Sidney takes a few moments to steady his erratic breathing before turning to look at Evgeni with the saddest, most defeated eyes and the faintest smile. 

“You have been too kind to me,” he says just above a whisper, “far more kind than so many others. I have had men try to forcibly bed me when they come to Winterfell, but you have hardly touched me when I don’t want to be touched. Many have called you a brute and barbaric, but you are nothing of the sort. You are compassionate and respectful. You love children and are very loyal to the people you love and care for. Though I am grateful for everything you have done for me and my people, I do not deserve your generosity. It is best for you to return to King’s Landing before we take this too far. It will make things easier for the both of us. I cannot—I cannot put myself through the misery of being around you when I know that I am unworthy of your affections.”

Sidney sniffles loudly and wipes away some of his tears with the sleeve of his tunic. Evgeni cannot bear to watch this any longer. He swings his legs over the side of his recovery bed and, with Masya’s help, shakily rises to his feet. Sidney is begging for him to get back in bed before he injures himself further, but Evgeni does no such thing. Masya is tall enough now that Evgeni can use her for balance and support. He walks over to Sidney with a newfound determination in his bones. He gently cups Sidney’s face with both of his large, rough hands.

“You deserve to have every man, woman, and child kneel at your feet,” Evgeni says without his lip quivering like it does when he becomes honest like this, _vulnerable_ like this. He needs to be strong for the two of them, and that is exactly what he will do. “I wish I could cut the tongues or even behead every single one of those bastards for how they have mistreated you in the past and in the present. If you asked me to, I would do so with my own blade. I would give you everything your heart desires if it means helping you know just how much you mean to me. You deserve to be envied by all of the most beautiful people in every part of Westeros. Your beauty is incomparable. Your ability to fight and strategize as a warrior for your land is nothing short of brilliant.

“But most importantly, Sidney, is that I trust you. You have quickly become a very close confidant and friend, and I will not let strangers and common folk destroy one of the most valuable relationships I will ever have. You mean so much more to me than you will ever know.” Evgeni gingerly thumbs Sidney’s tears away while Sidney rests his hands on Evgeni’s forearms. Evgeni rests his forehead against Sidney’s and lets him release all of his anger and misery through his sobs. 

They stand there for what seems like hours. Neither of them move; they stay in silent company. Evgeni’s side still hurts a little, but he would give anything to the Seven to take Sidney’s pain away. He feels so useless, standing here and letting Sidney cry into his neck, but he doesn’t dare try to move Sidney away from him. He just pulls him closer, their chests pressed together, the only barrier between them being Sidney’s layers of clothes and the bandages covering his wounds from the attack. Evgeni quietly inhales Sidney’s dark, curly hair. He has always found such contentment when in the presence of Sidney; he can only hope that he provokes that same serenity in the beautiful soldier as well.

The sobs turn to whimpers to an occasional hiccup before silencing altogether. Evgeni doesn’t say a word. He still holds Sidney in his arms.

“If you claim to care so much for me, then ask for my hand in marriage.”

All of the air seems to have been sucked out of the tent. Evgeni cannot breathe, cannot think. _Sidney wants—he wants to marry me?_ Evgeni asks himself. He couldn’t have heard that correctly. He pulls back only enough to look Sidney in the eyes.

“What?”

“I want you to ask me for my hand in marriage,” Sidney repeats himself. Evgeni searches Sidney’s face for any hesitation, but there is none. Evgeni quickly realizes that this may be his only chance to finally, _finally_ claim Sidney as his. Sidney sounds so sure that he wants to be Evgeni’s betrothed, and Evgeni almost believes him.

Almost.

Evgeni slowly, reluctantly retreats from Sidney entirely. His overheated body is cold as ice. Sidney’s eyes, so hopeful only moments ago, now stare at him in confusion. It hurts Evgeni to see Sidney be so vulnerable with him like this.

“I cannot marry you, Sidney.” The words sound so terrible on his tongue, but they need to be said. Evgeni has to turn his head away when Sidney’s face twists into hurt. “It’s not because I don’t want to marry you,” the King continues softly. “I would give anything to make you mine and to be yours forever. I truly would.”

“Then why don’t you?” Sidney asks so sadly. Evgeni wants to take back what he said if it means Sidney never sounds like that ever again. He musters up the courage to look Sidney in the eye once more. He needs to do what is right. He takes a breath.

“I cannot take you away from everything you have worked entirely too hard for. Look at how far you have come. You are so powerful, so strong, so smart. You were born to lead—not to be a Consort to a King.” Sidney stays silent, so Evgeni continues. “It matters not how much I long for you to be my husband, my lover, the father to my children, my closest companion, my most trusted confidant; I cannot ask you to surrender everything you have fought so hard to achieve just to warm my bed every night. I may be arrogant and a brute, but I am not a selfish man.”

Sidney looks torn between anger, sadness, and _relief_ —as if Evgeni had said exactly the right thing, even though Sidney does not wish to believe him. Sidney sighs deeply and closes his eyes. Then, suddenly, his face breaks into a small grin. When he opens his eyes again, they are twinkling with gold.

“Of all the men I choose to fall in love with,” he murmurs mostly to himself, “it had to be the one man that I can never have.” It doesn’t sound bitter, only wistful. It doesn’t help the ache in Evgeni’s heart hurt any less.

“You will find another to love you. Maybe he will be better than I ever could have been?” 

“Highly unlikely.” Evgeni has to laugh at that, despite how much it hurts. Despite the words they are exchanging, there is no animosity, no anger. The tension depletes fairly quickly as Sidney laughs with him. Then the First Lieutenant forces the King to lie back down in bed and rest before he exhausts himself too much. Evgeni obliges him and pulls the covers up to his chin. Masya takes her place over Evgeni’s most critical wound and happily accepts Sidney's petting of her head. No more words are exchanged, but there is an easiness to the silence between them. Sidney stays with him until he is finally asleep again.

**/\\\//\\\//\**

While Evgeni has enjoyed the past five days of relentless pampering from the men assigned to help take care of him while he recovers from his wounds—especially receiving special treatment from a bitching Sasha—he is ready to _get the fuck out of this fucking tent._ Cabin fever is nothing to laugh at when it has caused such irritation for the King of Westeros himself. He voices as much to Sidney, who only cackles and honks fondly.

“But if you hurt yourself again, you will be forced to lie in bed all the time for an even longer period of yime, and I know you want to be back to helping as soon as humanly possible.” That is enough to convince Evgeni to suffer through it. Sidney and Nicklas—“I only go by Sir Backstrom for formalities,” he told Evgeni when he cleaned and rewrapped his wounds that first day of recovery—check his wounds and both hum, seemingly pleased.

“If His Majesty is feeling none too sore,” Nicklas concludes, “then I don’t see why he cannot be cleared.” Sidney turns and beams happily at Evgeni, who smiles tiredly in return. For all that they talked, Sidney seems to be perfectly content with things going back to the way they were before their talk in the tent. Evgeni is relieved to have not lost his friendship with the First Lieutenant. He can bear never having Sidney as his own, but to have absolutely no form of friendship would surely break Evgeni’s already fragile heart.

Evgeni joins the rest of the camp the next day, and they move onward to the next village, the first of the final five villages they will be visiting to help. The next two visits are very much the same as the other uneventful village visits have been. Mostly, they have been helping replenish the soil, take care of the livestock, rebuild homes and businesses destroyed in the River War, and healing the sick and injured as best as they can. Evgeni is happy to be able to do something besides lie in bed and mope to whoever happens to be in the tent at that moment. Masya has had to bark and growl at her master to force him to shut up for a little while. She is very lucky that Evgeni loves having her as a heat source.

Then the letter comes.

It happens in the middle of a meeting between Sidney, Evgeni, Sasha, Kris, and Nicklas. They are discussing how to repair the rotted bridge that is a necessity for traveling this far south when Conor barges into the tent, huffing his chest tiredly with his hair and clothes all sweaty, holding a letter.

“For Sidney” is all he says before passing Sidney the letter and taking a seat on the stool that Sidney has magically conjured from the corner table. Evgeni always feels so proud when the mage uses his magic for mundane things. Sidney opens the letter hastily and reads through it fairly quickly. It seems to be short, which, Evgeni has learned with his time in the military and as King, is never a good sign. His suspicions are only confirmed when Sidney looks on at the other men at the table, trying his best to keep his tears at bay.

“Sid," Kris asks worriedly, “what’s wrong?” Sidney’s mouth trembles.

“Commander Lemieux has fallen ill.”

**/\\\//\\\//\**

Lady Nathalie, Mario's wife, is the one who sent Sidney the raven bearing the terrible news. Just like the assassination attempt on King Evgeni, the leaders of the camp vow to keep Commander Lemieux’s illness hidden for fear of enemy forces taking advantage of the Commander of the Northern Army’s—and, furthermore, the Northern Army itself’s—weakened state. She has called for Sidney to come back to Winterfell immediately. Sidney goes without argument and, albeit reluctantly, agrees to Evgeni, Gonchar, Brian, Conor, Jake, and all of the Direwolves accompanying him back to Winterfell. Kris and Sasha vow to take over on Sidney’s and Evgeni’s behalf.

Their four-day trip to Winterfell is, thankfully, uneventful. Evgeni, Gonchar, and Sidney trade off between sleeping, watching the children and Direwolves, and taking the reins to steer the horses pulling their cart along. They only stop a handful of times before finally arriving at the gates of Winterfell. Lady Trina, and Lady Nathalie Lemieux are waiting for them in front of the Lemieux Estates. Sidney dismounts from his horse very quickly and practically runs to meet them all. Evgeni is not far behind. Sidney hugs his mother tightly.

“Thank the Gods you have returned,” Lady Nathalie murmurs into Sidney’s shoulder as the First Lieutenant embraces her next.

“How is he?” Sidney asks as he pulls away. Lady Nathalie sighs sadly.

“His condition is worsening. The Physicians have said that there is nothing they can do to help him. Sidney, I wouldn’t have asked you to come back if I could have helped it.”

“I know.” Sidney pauses and looks softly at Nathalie. Evgeni has seen that look before. He thought it was reserved for only one woman and one girl in Sidney’s life. Evgeni was clearly wrong. “Take me to him. I’ll see what I can do.”

Lady Nathalie leads them all into her home, walking briskly to what Evgeni recognizes easily enough as the master bedroom. The weak, frail body of the once powerful Commander of the Northern Army shakes Evgeni to his core. Sidney immediately rushes to his side and kneels by the bed. Mario is awake and tries to say something to Sidney, but he begins to cough up blood instead. Sidney pales.

“He has been like this for days," Lady Nathalie says. “No Physician has managed to heal him. They cannot ease his pain, either. They have seemingly left him for dead.” Lady Nathalie practically spits the last part bitterly, and Evgeni watches as Lady Trina takes Lady Nathalie’s hand in hers, providing comfort of sorts. Sidney is looking over Mario’s dying figure with the utmost concentration. Evgeni watches Sidney conjure a spell, eyes glowing the same beautiful gold they always do when he practices his magic.

“He has been poisoned,” Sidney concludes frantically. “A magical poison. Nothing even the most skilled Physician can detect.” Lady Nathalie swears quietly. Lady Trina squeezes her hand.

“What can be done?” Lady Nathalie asks. “There has to be something you can do.” Sidney bites his lip. Evgeni feels useless just standing here, watching as Sidney does his best to think of what to do next. Lady Nathalie’s voice is much more gentle when she speaks again. “I will not fault you if my husband dies, Sidney. All I ask is that you do everything you can to save him.” Sidney’s eyes lose their edge as he looks at the Commander’s wife. They seem to have a conversation with just their eyes before he turns his attention back to Mario, holding his Commander’s hand in his own.

Evgeni has an epiphany of sorts. Mario is not only Sidney’s superior officer, not only his mentor. This man means so much more to Sidney than Evgeni ever realized. He should have connected the dots sooner. He knew that Sidney wrote to Mario much more than his own father, but he had convinced himself that it was purely business. The children of House Lemieux consider Sidney the older brother that they never had and Taylor as another sister. He knows that Sidney and Lady Nathalie are very close as well, but their relationship is almost like the one Sidney has with his birth mother. Sidney is obviously much closer to Mario than Lord Crosby. Evgeni thinks he truly understands just how important Mario is to Sidney. Their bond goes far beyond the limits of superior and subordinate, just like everyone in the North has assumed, but not in the way that they think.

“I need everyone out of the room,” Sidney announces with his firm, commanding voice. The Ladies and the King look on at Sidney in bewilderment. “But first, I will need my spell books. Evgeni, can you bring them to me?” Evgeni nods. “Mother, can you keep Lady Nathalie and the children out of the estate for now? I will let you know when it’s safe to come back. No other soul can be here as long as I am trying to help him.”

“Is there anything else you need?” Lady Trina asks.

“Just my spell books.”

Evgeni sprints to the wagon that is still waiting outside. He grabs Sidney’s special bag that holds his spell books. He quickly relays the news of the Commander’s condition and the plan to help him to Gonchar. Lady Trina, Lady Nathalie, and all of the Lemieux children are climbing into the wagon next to the orphans and the Direwolves—Evgeni assures them that the Direwolves are harmless. Evgeni sees them off to the Crosby Estates before going back inside to give Sidney his books.

When he opens the door to the Commander’s room, Sidney has already begun conjuring a spell that is causing miserable groans to come from Mario. Sidney turns to him, eyes glowing gold.

“Bring me the string bound book,” he commands. Evgeni is quick to obey. Sidney is still holding Mario’s hand. “I need you to turn the pages for me.”

“I thought you didn’t want anyone else here?” Evgeni questions.

“We don’t have time to argue about this. I need you to stay with me. I can’t do this on my own.” Sidney, Evgeni has learned, is not a man who begs, but his eyes are pleading for Evgeni to stay. The King never would have stood a chance, even without those eyes.

“Tell me what I need to do.”

Sidney gives Evgeni instructions, and the older man is quick to listen and follow. He may be the King of Westeros, but he is also a man willing to set aside all of his titles to do what is right, especially for those to whom he is most loyal. Sidney mutters in languages that Evgeni has only heard in passing, but nothing is working so far. Every time Sidney grows weary and close to surrendering Mario to his demise, Evgeni is there to encourage him, to push him onward. Sidney never has to tell Evgeni how thankful he is for the King’s assistance; Evgeni already knows.

Hours pass to no avail. Sidney’s hands shake from exhaustion. Evgeni’s eyes are drooping. When Evgeni voices a break, Sidney is quick to shake his head no. “I am not giving up on him,” he says.

“I know you won't give up,” Evgeni assures the mage. “You are of no use to him if you are too tired to do what is needed to help.” Sidney is quiet for several minutes. Mario’s forehead is drenched in sweat. He is only getting worse. Evgeni knows that Sidney is terrified of the possible outcome, but Evgeni has faith. He has been praying silently to the Seven this entire time, and he believes they will hear his prayers in time.

“Just one more spell,” Sidney pleads with the King. “One more. And if it does not work, then I will rest.” Evgeni wants to argue, but the agonizing noises from Mario are enough to force him to agree with Sidney’s plan.

“One more,” he warns Sidney. Sidney nods once, and they get back to work. Sidney opens the solid black spell book—“A secret gift from a mage in Vaes Dorthrak” is what Evgeni remembers Sidney telling him—and turns to the correct page before having Evgeni hold it open for him. Evgeni watches in awe as Sidney begins to speak in precise Dorthraki. The rush of magical energy almost knocks Evgeni off-balance, but he stands firm on his feet. Sidney’s voice gets louder the more times he repeats the spell. Evgeni looks to Mario and gasps in shock. What looks to be black smoke pours from his mouth at a fast succession. A loud roar rings in Evgeni’s ears and only rises in volume.

The spell is working.

“Keep going!” Evgeni shouts to Sidney. “It’s working!” Sidney only focuses on Evgeni for a split second before returning to chanting the spell. Just as fast as it comes, the smoke disappears with a loud _pop_ and the flash of a white light. The roaring stops along with Sidney’s chanting. Everything goes still.

The silence is deafening. Evgeni’s ears are ringing, but he still manages to hear the hard intake of breath from Mario. Sidney and Evgeni whip their heads to the Commander, who is wide-eyed and heaving harshly. Evgeni pretends he doesn’t see the tears cascade down Sidney’s reddening cheeks when Mario sits himself up. He looks to Sidney with curious eyes. 

“What the hell happened?” he croaks. Sidney can’t bite back the sob when he finally hugs Mario tightly. Mario embraces him just as easily as he would his own children. Evgeni feels as though he is intruding on something private, but Mario is looking at the King over Sidney’s shoulder. He holds his hand out for Evgeni, who cautiously takes it. They hold each other’s forearms, a sign of solidarity and unity, of friendship.

 _Thank you,_ Mario mouths to Evgeni. The King believes that Mario has no reason to thank him, but he never says a word. He has to steel himself from crying as well.

**/\\\//\\\//\**

Lord Crosby arrives back in Winterfell later the next night, rushing into the meeting at hand with the Northern Council. He does not expect to see Mario, Sidney, Gonchar, and King Evgeni sitting with the Northern Council as well.

“You are home early, My Lord,” Mario says when he sees Lord Crosby. “We were told you would be gone for much longer than originally planned.”

“I was,” Lord Crosby huffs, “but I hurried home when I heard the news of your terrible health. But you are looking well, I see.”

“Still not back to where I was before, but I am doing much better now that that dreaded poison has been casted out of me.” Lord Crosby’s eyes widen. 

“Poison?”

“Yes, poison,” Sidney replies. Lord Crosby whips his head to look at his son. “Someone tried to murder the Commander. Not just him, though. There was an attempt on King Evgeni’s life as well when we were traveling through the North. The plot was clearly foiled, but the perpetrators made it known that they were loyal to King Nicholas, First of his Name of House Foligno of the Riverlands.”

“Which means,” Sir Shero begins to say, “that the Riverlands are preparing themselves for yet another war in an attempt to overthrow King Evgeni. The only difference this time is that they don’t want just the North. They want all of Westeros.” Lord Crosby takes a seat at the head of the table. Evgeni watches the man carefully. There is silence for some time until Lord Crosby finally speaks. 

“If a war is what they want, then we will give them another war.”

“I was afraid you would say that,” Sidney sighs. Lord Crosby furrows his brows at his son.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that we already have a plan put in place in case of the possibility of a formal declaration of war. Father, I am just as furious as you about the events that have transpired, but we need to think this through. One wrong move, and the North will be no more.”

“We need to declare war on them!”

“We don’t have the manpower to make it happen! Why can’t you understand that?”

“I will hear no more of this, Sidney. You cannot make decisions on your own without my presence. None of you can.” Lord Crosby darts his eyes to every man in the room as he says that last sentence.

“These men may not,” Evgeni says coolly, “but I can.” Lord Crosby’s intimidating glare disappears from his face. Evgeni leans forward in his seat and rests his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers together in front of him. “Your army is not strong enough to handle an army like the Riverlands on its own, especially since now we know they have formed an alliance with the Reach. The people of the Riverlands are brutes of the unfaithful kind. They have no honor and cannot be trusted to make peace. The people of the Reach, as we all know, are even worse. Unfortunately, they have already sent us an informal declaration of war by their attempts on not only my life, but the life of your Commander as well.

“War is coming to these lands again, Lord Crosby, but this will be much worse than before. Now is the time to form alliances. You cannot afford to have the North stand in isolation anymore. Not unless you want your people to suffer after all of the hard work Sidney has put in toward rebuilding the North. You have two options: pledge your unity with the Crown and have its full support, or watch as your people die as a consequence of your pride. The choice is yours.”

Evgeni can see Lord Crosby’s eyes flash from anger to resentment to anger again before finally settling on defeat. He sighs deeply. Evgeni glances at Sidney, who is looking back at him. They nod once to each other. They know that they have won.

**/\\\//\\\//\**

A treaty is formally written, signed, and presented to the citizens of the North over the days that follow. They have to wait for Sasha to return to represent Evgeni’s military, but it does not take him long to return. After that, everything is said and done. The North has formed a military alliance with the Crown and they are agreed to share resources to support each other in the case of another formal declaration or war.

They celebrate the alliance with a feast fit for a King. Sidney sits to Evgeni’s right, Lord Crosby to his left. There is food, wine, music, and dancing. Taylor is sitting with the Lemieux girls at another table with the rest of the crows, cooing over her Direwolf, Blue—who she has proudly renamed _Raina_ . Conor and Brian are dressed in well-fitted garments as tailored by the best seamstresses in all of the North. Their Direwolves lie on their stomachs next to their rightful masters, happily chewing on the turkey legs being offered to them. Evgeni grins proudly and absently scratches behind Masya’s ear. Sidney laughs as he watches his sister dance with Austin, Mario’s only boy. Red— _Vera,_ as Sidney has renamed her—rests her head sweetly on Sidney’s thigh, whining quietly for the turkey leg. Sidney fondly rolls his eyes and finally hands her the turkey leg that he will not finish. Vera eats it like she has been famished for days. Sidney laughs at her.

“She acts like I starve her,” he tells Evgeni. Evgeni cackles. Another song begins to play, a tune that Evgeni recognizes from his younger days as just a Prince forced to go to many balls hosted by his parents. He always liked this song, though. He looks to Sidney with a bright smile.

“Would you like to dance with me, First Lieutenant?” A blush graces Sidney’s features.

“I would love to,” he says enthusiastically. Evgeni takes Sidney’s hand and takes him to the dance floor. “Mind you, I am not the most graceful dancer.”

“Neither am I.”

The music starts slow, and Sidney keeps up with Evgeni. More accurately, they keep up with each other. Sidney giggles and smiles and laughs even harder as the music speeds up. Evgeni twirls and swings Sidney around like he was born to do it. They flow easily together, so in sync the whole time. They hold on to each other tightly and laugh and clap when the song ends. Evgeni grins contentedly at Sidney, heart full. Sidney seems very happy as well, pink-cheeked with bright eyes. Evgeni likes to believe that he is the only one who can make Sidney look like that. Evgeni wishes that he could see that face smile at him every morning when he awakes and every night before he sleeps. He vaguely wonders if Sidney still wishes for the same things he does?

Suddenly, Sidney’s face drops. Evgeni can feel every high and happy emotion between them disappear. Sidney turns to look toward his father and mother, sitting at the head of the table. They look pleased at the party proceeding around them. They don’t notice their son’s panic-stricken face. But Mario does. Sidney shakes his head minutely. Mario raises an eyebrow at his First Lieutenant. 

“Sidney,” Evgeni rasps into his ear, “what's wrong?” Sidney doesn’t look away from his parents. Evgeni tries to see what Sidney is looking at, but all he sees are Lord Crosby, Lady Trina, Mario, Lady Nathalie, and several other Northern Council members with their wives. Vera and Masya seem to sense that something is wrong as well because their stances become predatory. Lord Crosby turns to look at his son, his grin widening ever more. He looks genuinely happy to see Sidney. He does not notice Sidney’s worried glance.

Then, one second too late, Evgeni and Sidney see it.

“Father!” Sidney’s warning is drowned out by two servants shouting their allegiance to House Foligno as they slit the throats of Lord Crosby and Lady Trina. 

Screams of terror.

Feet stomping.

Running.

Blood.

So much blood.

Sidney and Evgeni run to the table where Lord Troy and Lady Trina sit, faces on the table in front of them, liquid warm and red gushing from their throats. Sidney’s strangled cry at his parents’ gored bodies catches one assassin’s attention. He runs toward Sidney, but Mario brutally stabs the man through his back from behind before he can inflict any pain on the young First Lieutenant. Mario takes his sword out of the body and turns to Evgeni.

“Both of you! Get the children and get out of here!” Mario is commanding them both, but neither of them can move. “GO! NOW! MOVE!” That kicks Evgeni into motion. He grabs Sidney’s wrist and tugs him through the stampede of people. Their Direwolves are not far behind them. Evgeni finds the Lemieux children and Taylor hiding in a corner and tells them all to follow him. The group somehow stays intact when they make it outside, but Lauren, Mario’s oldest at fifteen, is screaming for her mother and father. She tries to run back inside, but Sidney holds her by her waist and pulls her farther away from the madness. He shushes her and assures her that they will get out just fine. Evgeni doesn’t know who will survive this massacre. He must have counted at least a dozen dead bodies or more before they made it out.

Evgeni is checking over the other children to see if they have been hurt when he notices a man dressed like one of the assassins who began the massacre run from the eating hall where the party was being held. Evgeni rises to his feet and runs after the man. He screams for the man to stop, but the assassin only runs away faster. Evgeni spots an alleyway of sorts and follows it, praying that it will give him a shortcut. It does, and Evgeni waits patiently with his sword in hand, ready to strike. When the footsteps come closer, he swings out his heavy sword and nearly slices the assassin clean in two.

Evgeni runs back to the group in time to see Sidney talking with Conor and Brian, giving them strict orders to take the children to the Crosby Estates and to hide. He gives them each both of his own swords and sends them all on their way. Taylor is begging Sidney to let her stay and fight, but Brian is dragging her away. She kicks and screams and demands that she is unhanded. Sidney turns to Evgeni sadly.

“I can't let her fight,” he says. _I can’t lose her, too,_ is implied.

“I know.” Evgeni does know. Sidney looks back to the madness of the eating hall and then at Evgeni again. He doesn’t even need to ask. Evgeni nods his head once and gives Sidney his second sword. The two young men run at their best speed back into the murderous rampage that has already taken the lives of the Lord and Lady of the North.

Evgeni does not know how many people he kills. He just fights and kills with everything that his body can muster. His itch to kill now has purpose. He has fought for Crown and glory; never has he fought for vengeance. This rage—it is new, unfamiliar. It sets his heart ablaze. He is an emotional man, yes, but the wrath he spews is unlike anything he has ever felt. He doesn’t dwell on why. He just kills and kills and _kills._

There is not much Evgeni can recall other than the emotions surging through his body. All he truly remembers seeing, after everything is said and done and the attack has been thoroughly destroyed, is watching Sidney scream in agony as he cradles his dead parents close to him. Evgeni can only drape his bloody arms across Sidney’s chest from behind and hook his chin on Sidney’s shoulder. Sidney does not dare try to speak. He rests his body against Evgeni’s and never bothers to subdue his wet sobs.

**/\\\//\\\//\**

Evgeni helps Lady Nathalie plan the funerals and assists Mario in the interrogations, executions, and the burning of the bodies of their enemies in Taylor’s and Sidney’s absences. Jake, who was once in Sidney’s sole care, has been taken in by Lady Nathalie until Sidney is able to resume his duties. Taylor has been mourning and spending her time with either her brother or the Lemieux’s. Sidney has chosen to remain in hiding, so Evgeni has not spoken with him in days. The maids tell Evgeni that Sidney has not eaten and now they are growing more and more concerned for his health and his sanity.

Mario tries to talk to Sidney, but he does not leave his room. Taylor only leaves her room to see him, but he never departs from his chambers to see her. The funeral for Lord Crosby and Lady Trina is meant to be at sunset this evening, but it cannot proceed without the presence of the newly appointed Lord of the North—who, much to the shock of everyone in the North, is Sidney himself. Members of the Northern Council explained to Mario and Evgeni that Sidney, although a carrier, is the only living male descendant of House Crosby. When counting how many people had perished in the attack on the leaders of the North, all of the men, women, and children of House Crosby had been brutally murdered—all except for Sidney and Taylor. Therefore, despite his curse and the overly traditional beliefs of the people of the North, Sidney is first in line as Lord of the Northern Kingdom. And with being the Lord of the North, Sidney is the one who must burn the bodies of his predecessors, his mother and father. It is a sacred tradition of the Northern people. Evgeni remembers how painful his father’s funeral had been and how terrified he was at his own coronation. He is eternally thankful that tradition did not call for him to burn his father’s body. Sidney had to watch his parents be slaughtered like livestock, held their bodies close to him, and now he has to set them on fire so that he can be named Lord of the North. Evgeni cannot begin to imagine what he must be going through.

Nevertheless, Evgeni decides to try and do as Mario and Lady Nathalie have asked of him: retrieve Sidney for the proceedings. They believe that Sidney will only listen to Evgeni. “He trusts you,” Mario said to the King. “I have never met another soul that could break down his walls and become as close to him as you have in such a short period of time. You mean a great deal to him, Evgeni.” Evgeni lets those words seep into his bones as he gently knocks on Sidney’s door, holding a small box of Sidney’s favorite desserts.

“Sidney?” There is no answer. Evgeni knocks again. “I brought you some chocolates.” Silence is Evgeni's reply. “Sidney, please let me in.” It is no use, he concludes. Sidney is too distraught to be seen. Just as Evgeni turns to walk away, the door slowly creaks open. Evgeni whips his body back around to see a bleary-eyed Sidney standing in the doorway. His clothes are disheveled and stained, his horrendous excuse of a beard is patchy and uneven, and his hair is greasy and flat against his head. Evgeni has never been more relieved to see the First Lieutenant, even when he looks his absolute worst. Sidney wordlessly steps to the side to invite Evgeni inside, and the King accepts.

If he thought Sidney looked like a mess, he was certainly not prepared to see the mage’s chambers in total disarray.

Sharp icicles hang from the ceiling; books, clothes, and pillows are ripped and scattered across the floor. Evgeni swears he can see fresh blood drops by Sidney’s desk. The room smells like it has been burned many times over. It’s so strong that he almost misses the faint stench of vomit. He looks to Sidney, prepared to ask why he has let himself become this way, why he has not spoken to a soul of his grief and sorrow. The pained guilt in Sidney’s beautiful hazel eyes is enough of an answer. Evgeni slowly raises a hand to cup Sidney’s stubbled cheek.

It’s all it takes for Sidney to fall apart.

Evgeni sits against the footboard of Sidney’s bed and cradles the younger man to him. He does not make a sound, not even a soft shush to encourage Sidney to quiet himself. Evgeni’s eyes blur with tears of his own. He has had many injuries, lost many friends in battle and in other horrendous ordeals, but nothing has ever hurt his heart more than to watch the man he loves—the brave, stoic soldier with a heart made of pure gold—become a broken, blubbering mess of himself in the midst of tragedy. He feels incredibly worthless to Sidney in this time of bleakness, but Sidney holds onto him like he is the only good thing left. Evgeni never once tries to make Sidney let go.

“You are still a strong man of honor,” Evgeni eventually comes around to saying when Sidney’s sobs fade away, “even as you mourn the family you have lost. You are not weak.” Sidney, once confident in his strength and his whole being, is as skittish as a child terrified of his own shadow. It is so painful for Evgeni to watch. But the young man sits up and takes several slow, deep breaths.

“Can you help me prepare for the service tonight?” Sidney asks so meekly, almost as if he is afraid Evgeni would say no. Evgeni takes hold of Sidney’s cold, shaking hand.

“Of course I will help you,” he replies. He stands to his feet and pulls Sidney up as well. “Bath first. Everything else later.”

While Sidney takes a bath, Evgeni searches for the proper robes needed for the funerals. Sidney had told him there was a set of robes that were specifically used for these kinds of rituals. He is still frantically looking for them when he hears something clatter loudly to the floor in Sidney’s washroom, followed by a string of loud swears. Evgeni rushes into the room to find Sidney kneeling on the floor, trying to pick up his bloodied shaving blade with trembling hands. Sidney finally gives up and sits pitifully on the floor, cradling his seemingly injured hand close to his chest. Evgeni’s heart aches for the beautiful mage.

Evgeni cleans off Sidney’s wound and carefully bandages it for him. Sidney is too emotionally and physically weak to use his magic to heal himself, and he apologizes profusely for making Evgeni do so much for him. Evgeni waves his hand dismissively and continues to silently finishes wrapping Sidney’s hand.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” Sidney confesses quietly as Evgeni helps him clean up the mess he has made of himself and his clothes. Evgeni hums while he cleans the shaving blade for Sidney and prepares to shave away Sidney’s horrifying facial hair. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to make it through the funerals. I cannot look weak and fragile to my people, especially to my sister. I need to be strong for her.” Evgeni lets the silence linger between them as he begins shaving Sidney’s face for him. He is about halfway through when he cannot seem to take the quiet anymore.

“When my father died,” he says, “I came to my mother and laid my head in her lap. I cried myself to sleep the night before his funeral because I was so distraught from his death. And I had learned earlier that day that my brother had renounced his title, making me next in line as King of Westeros.” 

“You must have been nervous,” Sidney murmurs when Evgeni quickly pulls the blade away to rinse it.

“I was terrified,” Evgeni agrees and continues his shaving again. “Here I was, an eighteen year-old foot soldier with almost no experience or lessons in being a King, and I had to try and be something I never felt I was worthy of becoming. I was told I was not ready to be a ruler of any kind. The Royal Council was tempted to have me give up my Crown because they felt I was not worthy of being King. I had to prove myself to all of these people that I was most certainly fit to be a King, even if I wasn’t. If it had not been for Mama and Denis, I would not be where I am today.”

“Do you think your father would be proud of you?”

Evgeni has wondered that many times over the years, anxiously fretting over his dead father’s approval. Every decision he has ever made as King has always begged the same question: Would his Papa be proud of him? His mother and brother always say yes, and the self-doubt has easily faded with time. There are days, though, where confidence fades and the fear resurfaces without prompting. Those moments are few and far between, but he will never stop praying for his father to help guide him in the right direction—not just as a King, but as a well-rounded man.

“I would like to think so,” Evgeni answers truthfully. “I hope I have done right by him and carried on his legacy to the best of my abilities.” The silence comes back, but it is much more peaceful this time. Evgeni finally finishes shaving Sidney’s face and helps the mage to his feet. They walk out of the washroom and over to Sidney’s bed. The ceremony is not until the evening, and Evgeni insists that Sidney needs sleep. Sidney does not have the energy to fight the King and simply complies to Evgeni’s orders.

“Can you stay with me?” Sidney asks as Evgeni walks to the door of his chambers. Evgeni raises his eyebrows. “I don’t wish to be alone right now.” Evgeni would have said yes, even without that last heartbreaking statement. Evgeni closes the curtains so that the room is dark and  crawls into the large bed, keeping some space between him and Sidney. They face each other in the darkness with less an arm’s distance between them. Just as he is falling asleep, Evgeni hears Sidney say:

“For what it’s worth, I think you have made an incredible King so far.”

Evgeni grins sheepishly before finally letting himself sink into a dreamless sleep.

**/\\\//\\\//\**

Sidney manages to keep himself put together for the funerals, much to everyone’s relief. He burns every altar with the fire that sparks from the tips of his fingers. The people are in awe of how beautiful the entire ceremony is. Evgeni praises Sidney after they leave to finally rest.

“You did an incredible thing,” he tells the young First Lieutenant— _Lord,_ he reminds himself. Sidney’s lips twitch into a ghost of a smile before frowning again.

“It is my duty to pay respect to the dead,” he insists. “I have done nothing special.”

“But you have, Sidney. You have proven yourself to be a man for your people. Many respect you for what you have done today. And for that, you should be proud. You will do incredible things for your people.” Evgeni can feel Sidney’s hesitance but decides to leave it be. Sidney will not believe him or listen to him, so he will just have to find another way to convince the mage of his truths.

Evgeni stays with Sidney in his chambers that night after the ceremony. Sidney clings to him as they sleep. Evgeni should have known that this serenity would be too good to be true. He is startled awake by the sound of someone taking a sword from its sheath. He scrambles to his feet and reaches for his own sword. He turns around to find Sidney standing before him, his sword pointed at Evgeni’s throat, the only sources of light coming from the moon and the golden glow of Sidney’s eyes. Evgeni stills.

“Sidney,” he calls softly in the darkness. “Lower your blade. I am not here to harm you. I am your friend.” He coaxes Sidney out of whatever nightmarish hallucination he is experiencing until his eyes are no longer burning and the blade clanks to the floor. Sidney’s eyes grow when he fully comes back to himself and releases a broken cry amidst the silence. He drops harshly to his knees and sobs into his hands.

“I didn’t—I thought you were—Evgeni, I'm so sorry!” Sidney’s voice cries in the darkness. Evgeni embraces him, holding tightly even though Sidney tries to push him away. Sidney finally becomes boneless against him and heaves and cries through his pain. Evgeni wishes he could help. He thought just being a calming presence would be enough, but Sidney is in far too much distress. Sidney needs help. He needs to release all of his torment and guilt if he ever wishes to move on.

Evgeni helps Sidney stand to his feet and put on a pair of boots and his fur. Sidney never bothers to argue. Evgeni dresses himself as well, and they leave Sidney’s chambers, leave the Crosby Estates, and walk to the military courtyard. It is still dark outside, the only light coming from the almost full moon and the stars.

“Why have you brought me here?” Sidney asks hoarsely.

“You need to release your anger,” Evgeni replies as he takes Sidney’s fur from his shoulders. He hangs their furs neatly along the fence. Sidney looks at him, bewildered.

“You want me to fight you?” 

“Some sparring may do you some good.”

“What makes you think you know what I need?”

“So you don’t wish to spar with me?”

“I never said that.”

“Then fight.” Evgeni charges toward Sidney, but the Lieutenant jumps out of the way quickly enough. Evgeni turns back around and begins to swing his fists. Sidney blocks every punch and returns his own blows. They break apart moments later when Sidney shoves Evgeni away.

“I don’t wish to fight you, Evgeni! I just almost _killed you_ in my chambers!”

“You cannot suppress your misery, Sidney! You are only killing yourself!”

“Then maybe I deserve to die!” That—that _stings._ Evgeni comes for Sidney again, and they manage to hit each other several times. They are getting dirtier with their blows and their kicks to each other’s ribs and knees and shoulders. Sidney sends Evgeni to the ground with a brutal roundhouse kick into his shoulder blades. Evgeni sweeps his leg under Sidney’s feet and crawls over him and straddles his chest. He lightly closes a large, calloused hand around Sidney’s throat.

“Never say those words again,” Evgeni warns with a growl.

“Or what?” Sidney spits. “What will you do? Will you try to hold me down and fuck me and make me live as your whore?” Where the fuck is this all coming from? Sidney takes a knee to Evgeni’s side, a surprise hit that has Evgeni rolling off of Sidney and curling in on himself.

“Never,” he chokes. Sidney laughs bitterly.

“Really? Because that is all any man has ever wanted of me! Why are you any different from them? That was the only reason you came to Winterfell, wasn’t it?” Sidney kicks Evgeni in his stomach. “To make me grovel into submission for your cock?” He kicks Evgeni again. “You never loved me! Why did I let myself think that you could ever love me?” Every kick to his torso is another agonizing bruise that Evgeni will have to nurse in the morning, but he has felt worse pain. He finally takes a hold of Sidney’s ankle and forces his feet from underneath him again. Evgeni takes Sidney’s wrists this time and pins them to the ground by his head. Sidney struggles and demands Evgeni to let him go.

“I _do_ love you, Sidney!” Evgeni shouts over Sidney’s screaming. “I have loved you ever since I met you! And it wasn’t because you can carry children! I had no idea you were a carrier until much later! I fell in love with the way you fight and your eyes and your voice!” Sidney is still thrashing against Evgeni, but the King holds his ground. “I know that you have been hurt for so long, but all I want is to make you happy! That is all I have ever wanted for you! Why do you think I chose not to propose to you?” 

“You don’t love me!” Sidney insists in a broken voice. “You could have anyone, and yet you have pursued me!” He grits his teeth and tries to use his lower body strength to throw Evgeni off, but Evgeni does not budge. “Why can’t you just leave me alone? Why have you stayed? I am nothing but a burden to you! I am not what you should want! You should have never come here! We should have never met! I wish I would have never met you!” 

“Look me in the eyes and repeat everything you have said to me!” Evgeni demands. “If you can look into my eyes and tell me that you wish you would have never met me, that you don’t love me anymore and will never love me, then I will leave Winterfell at dawn! You will never see me or hear from me again! I will leave you alone if that is what you wish!” The fight is slowly bleeding out of Sidney until he is finally still in Evgeni’s hold. Sidney stares into Evgeni’s eyes, tears falling down his face. “Tell me the truth, Sidney,” Evgeni whispers. “Tell me that you wish for me to leave, and I will leave. I will never bother you again.” Sidney bites his lip and closes his eyes. He shakes his head, clenching and unclenching his fists. Evgeni patiently waits until Sidney opens his eyes again. He sniffs and heaves heavy breaths.

“I—” Sidney scrunches his face as if he is being tormented. Evgeni just wants to hear the truth. He wants Sidney to speak to him, to be vulnerable with him. He wants Sidney to love him like he would love Sidney for the rest of his days. “Evgeni, please—”

“Just tell me.” He waits for so long, but Sidney finally, _finally_ looks up at Evgeni, who is still hovering above him. There is no anguish, no hatred, no guilt, no fight left in his eyes. They are so open for Evgeni, so bold and true and wet with unshed tears.

“I just want to be loved.” Sidney’s voice is quiet and quivering as tears escape the corners of his eyes. “But only—only if you will be the one to love me. No other will ever compare. I could never love another as I love you. I love you, Evgeni.”

Evgeni’s heart soars.

He kisses Sidney with an intense need to be somehow closer. His body is the warmest it has been since he first arrived in the North. His heart is pounding. He lets go of Sidney’s wrists and holds his face in his hands instead. Sidney moans into Evgeni’s mouth and wraps his arms around his shoulders, digging his fingertips into Evgeni’s shirt. Evgeni could fly if not for Sidney’s grip on his clothes.

“Evgeni,” Sidney breathes against Evgeni’s mouth in between kisses. “Fuck. Gods, Evgeni!” Evgeni lets one hand hook itself under Sidney’s knee and hikes his leg up and around his torso. Sidney tangles his hands in Evgeni’s hair and whimpers every time he hitches his hips against Evgeni’s. Evgeni swears he can feel sparks prickling against his skin. He stops kissing Sidney to gaze at Sidney’s lovely face. His cheeks are flushed a beautiful red, matching his kiss-swollen lips. He is panting heavily and staring back at Evgeni like he is the most precious thing in the world. Their bodies are still moving with reckless abandon, and it feels so good that neither of them make a move to stop.

Then, reluctantly, Evgeni stops moving altogether when he realizes what he and Sidney are doing. Sidney whines. “Why did you stop?” he asks with what Evgeni is sure was meant to be a frown but comes out as a pout. Evgeni grins while thumbing at Sidney’s plump bottom lip.

“As much as I want to be physically intimate with you, my dearest Sidney,” Evgeni says, “I am afraid that I will not allow your first encounter with pleasure to be in a bloody courtyard—a _military_ courtyard for that matter. You deserve to be taken apart on the finest silk sheets in the most beautiful chambers of the most extraordinary castle in this world. I will not settle for anything less than adequate when it comes to your deflowering.” Evgeni brushes a sweaty curl from Sidney’s forehead and sweetly pecks where his fingers lingered. “You have been through so much tragedy in such a short time, that I am afraid you may regret what we have done by morning light. This is not something to treat so carelessly. You are deserving of only the best. Your happiness and wellbeing come first. Everything else can wait.”

Sidney cries again, this time with tears of joy. Evgeni cannot begin to understand how overwhelmed his poor Sidney may be and how exhausted he is from how many tears he has shed in such little time. He stands to his feet and helps Sidney rise up as well. Evgeni gently engulfs Sidney’s hands with his own and keeps his eyes trained on Sidney’s face. Sidney is grinning through his tears. Evgeni has never seen anyone more beautiful.

“Are you not going to ask for my hand in marriage, then?” Sidney teases.

“I will ask you in the morning,” Evgeni promises. Sidney scrunches his nose.

“Why wait?” 

“You have been far too overwhelmed tonight. And I fear that, after you finally fall asleep and wake up in the morning, you will not feel the same as you did tonight.”

“Evgeni—” 

“I have been heartbroken once before.” Evgeni has not given his once dear Oksana a thought since his first meeting with Sidney. But now, he finds himself in the very situation that destroyed his relationship with his first love. Her rejection to become his betrothed had left him shattered, and thus had revived his bad habit of finding his long string of whores and courtesans to fuck until he could not fuck them anymore. He never wants to be that way again, not if he has the chance to be with someone like Sidney. “She had accepted my proposal, and we were ready to come back to Westeros and be husband and wife. But as we were set to leave, she suddenly changed her mind. We were meant to be married some time ago, but she—” Evgeni has to take a breath or two to keep himself from shedding any tears. “She did not want to leave her family behind. She loved me, but she loved Essos more. I could not convince her to follow me back to Westeros, no matter how hard I tried. So she left me on the docks of Volantis, and I knew it was useless to go after her and beg her to stay. I had never felt such agony in my life until then. Heartbreak is incomparable. I do not wish to experience that kind of suffering again. So please, Sidney, do not rush my fragile heart.”

Evgeni has never told anyone the full truth about the end of his and Oksana’s engagement, but he feels as if a heavy weight has been lifted off of his shoulders for the first time since returning home from Essos. It feels nice to finally speak the truth of his heartache without crying. Sidney’s eyes soften at Evgeni’s confession—not out of sympathy, though. More out of of joy and genuine love than anything else. He rises to the tips of his toes and gingerly kisses Evgeni’s cheek.

“As you wish,” he whispers sweetly. “Will you escort me to my sister’s chambers? I fear to sleep in my own bed tonight. And I wish to be in her company for the time being.”

“For you, I would do anything.” Evgeni drapes his large bear fur across Sidney’s shoulders, despite Sidney’s weak protests, and carries Sidney’s own personal fur in his arm. He laces his fingers between Sidney’s as they begin their walk back to the Crosby Estates. He sends Sidney to Taylor’s rooms and watches as Taylor embraces her brother. Evgeni is very thankful that Sidney has not lost all of his family. Taylor is still here. Evgeni kisses Sidney’s cheek and murmurs a “good night” against the soft, pale skin there. Sidney blushes and does the same to Evgeni. The King leaves the two last standing members of House Crosby to their own devices after he bids them both good night.

He goes back to Sidney’s rooms instead of his own. The rooms are a travesty, but he and Sidney will clean things in due time. He climbs into his side of the bed where he slept the night before, cradling Sidney’s pillow close to his chest. It smells just like him. Evgeni lulls himself to sleep, drunk on Sidney’s lingering scent and the thought that maybe all of those sleepless nights dreaming of Sidney as his husband are not far from becoming reality.

**/\\\//\\\//\**

Evgeni is disappointed that he does not see Sidney once for the next two days. Mario tells him that Sidney has been in countless meetings with the Northern Council about the next step involving Sidney becoming the new Lord of the North. Unfortunately, several complaints have been made from all over the North of the news of Sidney’s new position of power. The Northern Council is standing by Sidney’s side. That is what Mario tries to convince Evgeni, anyway.

Evgeni does not believe Mario for even a moment.

“Why was I not informed of these meetings?” he asks the Commander. “Am I not still the King of Westeros? Do I not still hold authority?”

“Of course you do,” Mario sighs. “This is a private matter among Northern men. The North is facing severe backlash from the people over Sidney’s new title as Lord of the North. The Council is afraid of another assassination attempt.”

“Then shouldn’t you be there as well, Commander?” Mario goes quiet. Evgeni can tell that even Mario does not believe what he has told Evgeni. Something heavy rests at the bottom of Evgeni’s gut and swells slightly.

“I am only telling you what Sidney has told me,” Mario admits. “He was the one that called for the meetings with the Council. He looked much more relaxed and happier than I have seen him in weeks, maybe months. I’m starting to wonder if I should be happy for him or worried about him.” Evgeni wants to tell Mario the truth about his and Sidney’s finally blossoming courtship, but that is a story for Sidney to tell with him.

“I think he will be quite all right, Mario. You worry too much.” Mario chuckles.

“It’s my job to worry about him, Evgeni. Not only is he my second in command, he is like a son to me. I worry for him like I do my own children.”

Evgeni does not try to think about the meetings, but something is troubling him. He voices his concerns to Sasha when the General finally manages to separate himself from Nicklas, who returned with the rest of the caravan the day before the funerals of the fallen men, women, and children of the North that were slain in the attack. Evgeni explains everything that has conspired over the last few days while sitting with Sasha over their afternoon tea later that day, and all Sasha can do is sigh heavily.

“Look at everything he has been through, Zhenya,” the General says very bluntly. “While I understand the concerns, I believe that Sidney is handling everything much better than most people.”

“He froze his room and also tried to burn it at the same time,” Evgeni argues. “That is not normal.”

“I didn’t say he was handling it _well._ By the Seven, man, just listen for once.” Sasha pinches the bridge of his crooked nose and sighs deeply three times before speaking to Evgeni again. “Sidney Crosby is a mage. Of course his magic is going to spiral in a time like this. He is easily one of the most brilliant men I have ever come into contact with, and I can attest without a shadow of doubt that he has been trying too hard to make everyone think that he is fine when he is not. He is very good at downplaying his emotions. You already know all of this, though.” Evgeni does know this. He also knows that Sasha is a genius in his own right and should not be underestimated. “Most people, however, have no fucking clue what Sidney is capable of, even without his magical abilities. He is not a beast I would ever wish to poke. He has been through so much shit, I’m surprised he hasn’t gone mad with grief and revenge. If he was to be given the opportunity, though, I could see him exacting a very brutal and bloody type of vengeance.”

“Such as—?” 

“Torture. Murder. Endless suffering for anyone who dares to cross him. I saw him during the massacre. He is merciless. He stabbed a man right through his skull and wiped the blood and pieces of brain off of his sword and onto another dead man’s clothes. What we did to those who survived and were the enemy were child’s play compared to what he most likely would have done.” Evgeni is silent for a while. He has never thought of Sidney as such a violent man, but Sasha is very good at spotting people’s deepest inner demons. Sidney is also a soldier. He has killed many men before. Evgeni has never really watched him take another person’s life. Every time they have fought side by side, he has never paid attention to the way Sidney pierces another man’s body with his sword. He wants so badly to say that Sasha is so full of horse shit, he might as well be made of it entirely. Sidney is not a heartless monster. He would never be so barbaric, even to an enemy that has exceptionally wounded him.

He then reminds himself that Sasha has never been wrong before.

“You truly believe he is capable of inflicting so much harm to someone?” he asks sincerely. Sasha takes a sip of his tea.

“Only if he believes they are worthy of such treatment.”

Evgeni thinks about his conversation with Sasha the entire time he walks to the secret room where the meetings among the Northern Council have been taking place. He does not want to believe that Sidney, his sweet Sidney who loves children and animals and is so kind to even those who do not deserve it, could be so cold-blooded.

But.

Evgeni begins to understand that he has never seen Sidney at his lowest point. That day before the funerals, he thought he had looked at the worst part of Sidney. He has no idea how far Sidney would go to exact revenge on the people who murdered his family. He has never watched Sidney lose all self-control, never known Sidney when he is fully enraged. This Sidney he has come to know is only a small piece of colored glass in a stained window. He wants to marry a man he does not entirely know, despite the amount of time they have spent together since King Evgeni first came to Winterfell.

And yet, despite every reason why he should rethink his plan to propose, Evgeni believes that Sidney Crosby is the only person he ever wants to share a bed with, wants to have children with, wants to have rule beside him. Sidney Crosby is nothing like any of the women that Evgeni ever expected to fall so deeply in love with. He had settled on the idea of finding a young, beautiful courtesan and grooming her to become his Queen. Or maybe his mother and father would have arranged for him to be married to a Princess or even a Lord’s daughter. He does not know.

All he knows is that he wants Sidney to be his husband. No one else will do. He is gone for the beautiful man that has chosen him right back. Ill temperaments, flaws, and everything else that stands in Evgeni’s fucking way be damned.

Evgeni pounds his fist on the door leading to the meeting that is apparently still at hand. He waits for a response but receives none. In fact, Evgeni cannot hear any voices at all. There is only pure silence. The bad feeling Evgeni had felt deep in his stomach earlier in the day has returned, stronger than before. There is something terribly, terribly wrong. He can sense it. He knocks harshly again.

Nothing.

Evgeni huffs and decides the next best course of action is to force his way inside. He steps back and kicks at the lock on the door one, two, three, four, five times before the latch finally breaks. Evgeni swings the door open and steps inside the room—only to stop dead in his tracks.

There is one man standing on the other side of the room, wearing a large, familiar, dark fur coat that is seemingly splattered with blood. He holds a bloody sword in his purpling and scraped fist tightly at his side. But that is not what causes Evgeni to pause. The stench of death and the blood-soaked bodies scattered across the room in various mangled positions shock Evgeni enough to make him only stand there and look on in horror. This—by the Seven, this is somehow worse than any bloody battlefield Evgeni has ever seen.

“My Lord, I only did what I felt was best for you! We all did!” Evgeni knows that voice. He does not move, though. He does not speak. “We were wrong for the things we have done! All of us! But please, my Lord, you have to understand! We were thinking of the greater good! I even made sure that they would never lay a hand on you! I told them all to let you live!”

“You commanded those _heathens_ from the Riverlands to murder my family,” the man in the fur coat snarls. Evgeni pales. He should have known sooner. The fur coat looks familiar because it is _Evgeni’s_ fur coat. It is the same one he gave to Sidney just two nights ago. He most certainly should have recognized the dark curls and the white Direwolf handle of the blade.

“I understand your anger and dismay at the events that have unfolded,” Sir Shero begs, “but I was in a very difficult predicament, my Lord! You have to understand that!”

“And _I_ was not in a very difficult predicament? You _watched_ my family die _. You_ _helped plan everything._ And you somehow expect me to believe that I am indebted to you for having my life and the life of my sister’s spared?” Sidney scoffs humorlessly. “You deserve the same fate as the rest of these monsters. You are no better than them. In fact, you are the worst of them.”

“My Lord, _Sidney,_ by the Gods, think about what you are doing! Think of what you have already done!”

“My father was right to not have trusted any of you,” Sidney rambles, “and I didn’t listen. He warned me of snakes like you as early as I can remember. I let all of you convince me that my father was a fool and a coward for being afraid of magic and us mages alike. I let you turn me against him. I can never forgive myself knowing that I am part of the reason he is dead now, but I can surely avenge him and my mother and the rest of House Crosby and the many other innocent lives that were slain by your command.”

“We mages have been shamed for far too long!” Sir Shero growls. “With you in power, we can make the North a better place! You will become the greatest Lord the North has ever seen!”

“I never wanted to be Lord of the North!” Sidney shouts back angrily. The hand holding the sword is shaking. “I had fought and trained to become the Commander of the Northern Army for so long, and that was my plan in the end! I had accepted the thought of never being Lord of the North, and it never once discouraged me! Despite my and my father’s disagreements and quarrels, _he was still my father!_ And you took him from me! You tried to take Commander Lemieux away from me! You tried to take _Evgeni_ away from me!”

Evgeni watches, hidden away in a dark corner of the dim, candlelit room, uselessly soaking in every bit of the horrible truths he is hearing. Sir Shero and the rest of the Northern Council had Lord Troy Crosby and the rest of House Crosby—sans Sidney and Taylor—murdered. House Crosby, Commander Lemieux, and Evgeni himself were all meant to die so that Sidney could become—Lord of the North? King of the North? A God? No, they had much bigger plans for their golden boy. Their plan for him was to become something that Sidney never wanted, regardless of what Sidney would think. For a group of people who seemingly cared so much about Sidney’s thoughts and dreams for a better Northern Kingdom, they were hypocrites of the highest tier. They were just like—possibly worse than—Sidney’s father ever could have been.

“They were distractions from your true purpose!” Sir Shero argues. Evgeni would love nothing more than to murder this monster himself. “Don't you see, Sidney? All of these people that you claim to love so much are the ones hindering you from your greatest potential! You are one of the most brilliant mages and military men of your time! And you will never achieve the greatest of honors and titles if you have these people standing in your way! This is how the game works, my boy! You do what it takes to reach the highest title of power and glory! We were going to make you King of the North! We were planning to unite the lands, to take back the Seven Kingdoms, and to return this wretched continent to its full glory! Then you would have become King over all of Westeros! You have the power to bring the whole world to its knees at your feet! Don’t you want that?”

The silence that follows should make Evgeni uneasy, like Sidney is rethinking everything he has ever stood for and believed in—like Sidney would ever murder the ones he loves for power. He knows Sidney better than that and hates himself for ever thinking otherwise.

“Westeros has flourished more in the time that House Malkin has been the ruling family than it ever has in its history,” Sidney responds. “All you wanted was another war. All you and every man in this Council have ever wanted was ultimate power. Mages have been treated terribly for many years, yes, but you care not for the mistreated magical beings of this land. You only care about yourself. To you, there is no right or wrong—only another step closer to ultimate victory and domination. You don’t even care about the children you poisoned in the orphanage or the crops and livestock you destroyed. You have no remorse for the crimes you have committed against the North and its people.” Sidney pauses and takes a step forward toward where Sir Shero is kneeling with his hands bound behind him. There is a faint flurry of red around Sir Shero, which makes Evgeni wonder if Sidney has put the Councilman under some kind of spell.

“My loyalty is to the Crown—to King Evgeni,” Sidney continues. “He is far more fit to bring Westeros back to its full glory in due time than any man I have ever met. He is a good man, an honest King who is true to his word and only wants peace and prosperity for his people. A wise King never brings wrath upon the innocent. He does not create a war, and he most certainly never tries to bring forth a second one so soon after the first. You, Sir Shero, would have never been worthy to possess the title of King of Westeros.”

Sir Shero sputters incoherently, but Evgeni manages to catch how Sir Shero has no idea what Sidney is talking about, that the title belongs to Sidney and Sidney alone. Sidney laughs bitterly. “Do you mistake me for a fool?” Sidney taunts. “Like I would have ever believed you would let me live on as King of Westeros. You would have made some elaborate excuse about me committing treason and had me beheaded on sight. I may be young and a little too trusting of others, but I am not an idiot. And I do not take kindly to being treated as such.”

Sidney walks around behind Sir Shero and presses the blade to the bottom of his throat. Sir Shero’s eyes widen, relieved when he spots Evgeni. “Thank the Gods you are here, Your Grace!” he exclaims happily, despite having a blade breaking the skin on his neck. “Lord Sidney has gone mad! Look at the viciousness of his actions! Every member of the Council has been mutilated as though they were all attacked by a wild animal! He has surely lost his sanity due to his grief! Please don’t let him kill me next! I will forever be in your debt, Your Grace, if you just stop him—”

Evgeni raises his right palm to silence Sir Shero. When the man clicks his mouth shut, Evgeni locks eyes with Sidney. A justifiable rage is all he can see in those beautiful hazel irises. They silently agree with each other.

“The Lord of the North does not look manic or deranged,” Evgeni says coolly. “I heard enough of your little chat with Sidney to determine who is the mad one here. I think it is safe to say that Sidney has not lost his sanity. You, on the other hand—you have proven yourself to be a traitor not only to the Crown, but to mages all over the land and the entirety of Westeros and her people. You attempted to have me killed and failed, which is immediately punishable by death. You also planned to have Commander Lemieux of the Northern Army assassinated, but that was foiled as well. Then you have all of House Crosby slaughtered, save for Lord Sidney and Taylor. You have done all of this just so you can rightfully make Sidney Lord of the North? You cannot think for a moment that I would believe that you genuinely wanted Sidney to be the supreme ruler of Westeros. You did not do any of this for anyone’s benefit but your own. Sidney was just meant to be a pawn in your twisted game for power. He would no longer be of importance to you once you finally had Westeros under your total command.

“The madness you have caused cannot go unpunished. And while I do wish for you to live in a permanent state of misery until you are quite literally begging at my feet for me to kill you, my blade is not the one that should end your worthless life. You have wronged me, yes.” Evgeni’s eyes flicker back to Sidney’s then to Sir Shero's again. “But I believe that you have wronged Sidney far more. Therefore, I will allow you, Lord Sidney Crosby of the North, to punish Sir Shero in the best way you see fit.”

Evgeni is relieved of the cries for mercy and penance when Sidney finally swings his sword with all of his might, breaking skin, muscle, bone, and vein to separate Sir Shero’s head from the rest of his body. Evgeni watches as Sir Shero’s body slumps to the floor, head rolling away and stopping at his feet, a sick satisfaction rising in his chest. He looks to Sidney, who is staring at the man he has just decapitated, and wonders if he is feeling any form of contentment as well. Sidney does not say a word as he slowly walks to Evgeni, picks up Sir Shero’s head by its long hair, and places it on the end of the long table. His eyes flicker up to Evgeni’s. It is hard to read Sidney’s emotions sometimes, but Evgeni has known him long enough to understand that the silence between them is an unspoken promise of unity, of their permanent alliance.

Sasha was right, after all: Sidney Crosby is a man capable of doing terrible, _terrible_ things. He is merciless and is to be feared by all. He will be the greatest Lord that the North will ever know. Evgeni has never been more proud.

**/\\\//\\\//\**

The weather is not necessarily warmer, but the sun is shining brightly, and that is enough to have Evgeni almost purring like a contented kitten as he basks in the warm light. He is lying on his back in the meadow by the river bank, lacking in a shirt and boots, enjoying this unusually lazy morning.

“I thought Sergei said that you should not be alone?”

Evgeni cracks an eye open and smirks at the curly-haired man standing over him and blocking the sun. “What Seryozha doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Evgeni says simply enough. Sidney grins toothily. “Besides, I am not unarmed.” He taps the cuffs of his boots to show the handles of his daggers cleverly hidden away. Sidney laughs. “You are not supposed to be alone, either, Lord Sidney.” Sidney rolls his eyes. Evgeni’s heart skips a beat when he sees the gold sparks among the hazel.

“I think I can take care of myself, thank you.” Evgeni grins softly.

“I know you can.” Sidney smiles back. “Do you have anywhere to be?” Sidney shakes his head no. Evgeni sits up and pats the spot next to him in the grass. Sidney rolls his eyes fondly and joins Evgeni easily enough. They sit in comfortable silence, listening to the birds sing and the water drift by at the speed of the currents.

“So,” Evgeni finally says, “what is next for you, Lord Sidney?” Sidney’s easy smile falters. He continues to watch the water, not immediately answering Evgeni’s question. When he does answer, he shrugs.

“I don’t know,” he answers in a soft voice. He looks down to stare at his twiddling thumbs in his lap. Evgeni takes in Sidney’s cleaned up appearance. His wild curls are trimmed and tamed, and his treacherous facial hair is gone. His clothes are not soaked in blood or sweat or mud, and he actually smells nice. He is enchanting. “I have been asking myself what my father would have done in this situation, but I have spent so much of my time trying to be nothing like him and disregarding the thought of ever being Lord of the North. I have no Council to help guide me, there are still people demanding I denounce my title as Lord, and our nation is trying to make peace with a people that, we have come to discover, does not want another war to break out. There is so much chaos all around me, and I haven't a clue of where to start.” Evgeni can sympathize. Sidney turns to look at him with a slightly perplexed look that morphs into a soft, close-mouthed smile that Evgeni now understands is meant for him and him alone.

“There is something else on your mind that you are not telling me.” Sidney’s eyes crinkle with the force of his wide smile. 

“Well,” Sidney says slowly, “I’m also waiting to see if I still want to be Lord of the North because there is one very important thing that needs to be settled.” Evgeni stares curiously at Sidney with a tilt of his head. He thinks back over the events of the past two weeks, wondering what else could be causing Sidney to hesitate formally taking his title as Lord of— 

_Oh._

The hopeful glint in Sidney’s eyes is enough of a hint for King Evgeni. He chuckles and reaches for Sidney’s hand. Sidney’s blush is high on his cheeks, giggling helplessly as Evgeni kisses each of his scarred knuckles. Evgeni never steers his gaze away from Sidney’s, even as he gives the same attention to the mage’s other hand. Sidney’s face-splitting grin dies down into a soft curl of his closed lips.

“I believe you said something about having a question to ask me, yes?” he says and bites his lip. Evgeni wants nothing more than to ask. He knows that Sidney is sure of his feelings for Evgeni, and he had mentioned asking for Sidney’s hand in marriage. Though he desperately longs for Sidney to be his husband, his true wish is for Sidney to be blissfully, inexplicably happy. Nothing matters more to the King. He sighs deeply and caresses Sidney’s hands with his thumbs.

“If you become my husband,” he says in a serious tone when he locks his gaze with Sidney’s, “you will never be anything more than that. In the eyes of my people, you will be my property, my possession. I could give you the title of King of Westeros and give myself the title of King Consort, and people will still think so lowly of you. You will never lead your own army. You are never to be a Lord. Everything that you have worked so hard for will have been in vain. You will only be known as my husband, the bearer of my children. History will never know of the things you could have accomplished. I cannot bear the thought of you ever grieving the life you could have had if you were to ever accept my proposal and then come to dread our life together. I am not saying that I do not wish to ask you to become my husband and I am not trying to deter you from the thought. All I ask of you, my dear Sidney, is to think about the choice you will have to make. Nothing would hurt me more than to see you miserable.”

Sidney stares thoughtfully at Evgeni, and all is silent for some time. The fear creeps further up Evgeni’s throat until he is almost suffocating with it. It is finally settling deep into his skin that Sidney could change his mind and force him to leave. Their friendship, once undoubtedly so strong in Evgeni’s heart, will be no more. The one chance that Evgeni would have at finding a spouse that he could proudly marry out of love instead of obligation or through an arrangement will fly into the wind. The heartbreak he felt when Oksana denied leaving Essos to follow Evgeni back to Westeros and become his Queen was excruciating. The mere thought of never speaking to Sidney again is earth-shattering. To have the thought become reality? Evgeni is not so sure that he would be strong enough to brave through the loss.

But—despite the agony he would have to endure, it would hurt a little less if it meant that Sidney would finally be happy.

Evgeni is so focused on his spiral of self-deprecation that he almost does not notice the worried expression on Sidney’s face. Evgeni blinks. It looks as if Sidney is waiting for an answer. “Sorry, what was that again?” Evgeni asks dumbly. Sidney giggles.

“I was asking if you were all right,” he answers. Evgeni coughs once and blushes but laughs with Sidney, anyway. Their laughter dwindles until Evgeni is quiet again and Sidney is only beaming at the King. “I have been thinking about being your Consort since the first moment you ever spoke to me. When we met all those months ago, I was expecting you to be a lazy, drunk, barbaric King who only wanted to fuck every living thing he sees. The things I had heard about you were horrid and vile, and I believed that you were just like all of the other Kings and Princes and Lords I have met in my time. But you showed me more respect and dignity than any man from any walk of life has ever bothered to try and give. I tried to convince myself that you were just like all the others and to not expect much good to come from our companionship because I have been duped in the past by fancy men who bowed to me and kissed my hand. You proved to be nothing like them again and again and again, and my heart has grown fonder for you every day.

“That day in the tent, when you were recovering from the attempt on your life, you told me that you would not ask for my hand in marriage because you were not a selfish man. Then, on the night of the funerals, you did not propose to me yet again because you did not want to take advantage of me in such a fragile state of mind. And now, you tell me to think about what _I_ want because all you want is for me to be happy. Evgeni, these past several months have been some of the best of my life. I had spent so much of my time preparing to be alone that I never let myself indulge in the thought that you—or anyone, for that matter—could ever love someone like me. You have treated me better than I ever believed I deserved, and I know that I will never find anyone else to love me the way that you do.” Tears well up is Sidney’s eyes, and his bottom lip begins to wobble. Evgeni catches the first tear that falls with his thumb and kisses Sidney’s forehead. He hauls the beautiful man into his lap and holds him gently but protectively, like his father used to do with his mother when she was either upset, ill, or terribly depressed.

“When I first met you,” Evgeni whispers, “I was first impressed with the way you moved when you fought. Then, I looked into your eyes and I knew that I would never see eyes more stunning than yours. When I sparred with you that first time, I had truly met my match. When I saw your ass in those trousers—” Sidney sniffs and laughs wetly into Evgeni’s shoulder. Evgeni laughs with him and does not bother to finish that thought. Sidney can most likely guess what Evgeni was going to say. “You are unlike any man I have ever known. I was gone for you after such a short exchange of words. I began to think of how you look standing next to me as my King Consort, as my husband, and I let myself obsess over the need to make you mine.

“When I learned that you were a carrier through a curse, I told myself that I had truly found the most perfect husband. But then the rational part of me stepped in and reminded me that, because you are a carrier, you are not treated the same as other men. You have so much more to lose. You have spent most of your life trying to make everyone forget what you are. You fought so viciously to become the First Lieutenant Commander of the Northern Army. All you wanted was to be the next Commander of the Northern Army, and now you are the _Lord of the North._ You have inherited the highest honor anyone in the North could have. I would never dream of forcing you to sacrifice your headstrong ways and your accomplishments thus far just to warm my bed at night. You deserve better than that.” Evgeni swallows the lump lodged in his throat. 

“You see, Sidney, I am in love with you. I will most likely never love someone as intensely as you. But I cannot ask you to be my husband if you do not love me or if you don’t think you could ever learn to love me. I just want you to be happy—even if the happiness you wish for is not found with me.” Sidney kisses Evgeni’s cheek, letting his lips linger there for longer than is probably necessary. His lips are just as warm on his skin as they were the night he sent Sidney off to be with Taylor.

“Despite all of the rumors, the lies, the truths, my deepest flaws, and everything else in between,” Sidney murmurs, “you still wish for me to be your husband?”

“More than anything.” Sidney lifts his head to look at Evgeni with so much love and trust, Evgeni almost forgets to breathe. This love he has for Sidney is unmatched. No one will ever take hold of his heart the way this beautiful creature of the North has. Sidney bites back a grin as Evgeni gently takes hold of his left hand. “Sidney—my dearest, most beautiful Sidney—” Sidney giggles.

“Yes, my most thoughtful Evgeni?” he asks. Evgeni’s grin almost hurts as he rests his forehead against Sidney’s.

“Will you marry me?”

“I thought you would never ask.” 

**/\\\//\\\//\**

The next several days are nothing short of chaotic.

Mario and Lady Nathalie happily congratulate Sidney and Evgeni on their engagement and even host a small, quiet party for them with all of their closest friends that are still in Winterfell. Evgeni sends a letter to his mother and brother that he has found a spouse to marry and that they will be back in King’s Landing for the wedding in one month’s time. Although Evgeni knows Sidney would have loved to have their wedding in Winterfell, he is the King of Westeros, and he is required by law to be wed in King’s Landing. Sidney sighs sadly at that realization but assures Evgeni that he will still be just as happy as long as they are married to each other for always and eternity.

There is also the issue of who will replace Sidney as Lord of the North, even though Sidney has already made his decision on the matter. Mario tries to tell Sidney that giving Taylor, a thirteen year-old child who has not yet become a woman, the title of Lady of the North could be too much pressure for her to handle. Sidney, naturally, disagrees and argues until Taylor finally intervenes.

“I can make my own decisions, thank you, and I know that I am very young to be Lady of the North. I want to be Lady of the North because I do not trust anyone else to take the title away from my family. Since Sidney has chosen to marry the King of Westeros, the title immediately goes to me. I want to continue my family’s legacy, and I want to make the North a better place for everyone. I will need help building a new Council, but I know the risks. I know what it will take for me to be Lady of the North. I am ready for it.”

And so it is settled. Sidney and Mario prepare for Taylor’s ceremony, and she is delighted in the pale blue dress that matches her eyes. Sidney does the honor of giving her their father’s sword and formally introducing her to the people.

“I present to you,” he shouts over the large crowd, “Taylor of House Crosby, the First of Her Name, Lady of the North, Protector of the Northern Kingdom!” Evgeni looks on proudly as Taylor lifts the sword over her head and basks in the cheers from her people. She will make an exceptional Lady of the North. 

Taylor thanks Evgeni profusely for the beautiful fur cloak he had had sent to Winterfell from Casterly Rock just the week after, much to Sidney’s delight. He voices his relief that his little sister and his future husband get along so well. Evgeni wishes he could bring Taylor with them since she has already lost so much of her family, but she insisted on staying in Winterfell—even up to the moment that Sidney, Evgeni, and Evgeni’s camp are set to depart and begin their journey to King’s Landing.

Sidney and Taylor embrace each other tightly, unable to find the strength to let go. For the first time since Sidney and Evgeni made the announcement of their engagement, Taylor cries. She cries and cries into her brother’s shoulder and soaks his fur with her tears. Sidney is none the better.

“I will write to you every day,” Evgeni hears Sidney promise his sister.

“You will come back to visit, right?” she asks with a quivering lip.

“Swear on my life.” Sidney kisses Taylor’s forehead and murmurs a soft “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Squid.” Her voice breaks on the fond nickname she had given him when they were much younger and none the wiser of the hardships that would be bestowed upon them. Evgeni wishes his relationship with Denis was as strong as the bond Sidney and Taylor both share. Evgeni hugs Taylor tightly as well while Sidney says his goodbyes to his friends and to the Lemieux’s. “Promise me that you will take care of my brother.” Evgeni breathes shakily. 

“I promise.”

The Lemieux children are just as shattered by Sidney’s departure as Taylor is; poor Alexander Letang keeps hiccuping from crying so much. Sidney kisses each child’s cheek or forehead and hugs them all like they are his own. In some strangely wonderful way, they are. Mario is the last to bid Sidney farewell with a bone-crushing, fatherly embrace and a kiss to Sidney’s temple. Evgeni looks away at the vulnerable Commander and his former First Lieutenant. So many have said horrendous things about their closeness, but Evgeni knows the truth. He knows how important Mario is to Sidney. He knows what they both mean to one another. Despite every terrible word that has been said, Mario will never stop defending and praising Sidney. Sidney will never know a better man to show him just how strong he truly is. Evgeni will never be able to thank Mario Lemieux enough for making Sidney the man he is today.

Sidney backs away from the people he must now leave behind, the life he has always known. Evgeni still feels guilty for taking Sidney away, but this was just as much Sidney’s choice as it was Evgeni’s. He has not been coerced or forced to do anything against his own free will. He is a grown man who can make his own decisions. They both are, and they have chosen each other. Sidney takes Evgeni’s hand in his own.

“I’m ready to depart, my love,” he says softly. Evgeni nods once and gently squeezes Sidney’s hand. Sidney squeezes back. Evgeni turns to the small crowd before them.

“I thank all of you for your hospitality and kindness during my stay here,” he announces. “It is now time for my betrothed and I to return to our home in King’s Landing. May the Old Gods and the New bless every one of you and the entirety of the North. I am forever in your debt, Lady Taylor, and you can consider me an ally for as long as I live. All of you can. Until we meet again—farewell, Winterfell.”

Evgeni and Sidney check to make sure Conor and Brian are helped into one of the horse-drawn royal carriages. He then helps Sidney and Jake into their own carriage for the three of them and finally begin their journey to King’s Landing. The cheers and well wishes from the people of the North fade the further south they travel.

**/\\\//\\\//\**

The three-week trip passes mostly without incident. Sidney and Evgeni spend their time sparring when they stop their caravan for an extended period of time. Sidney cares for Jake, who has been feeling a strong sense of neglect from the young mage not being around. Sidney carries him around and spoils him rotten with sweets and plenty of kisses to his now chubby cheeks. Brian and Conor also watch after the babe while they are to be fitted for their new robes and are taught new mannerisms to prepare for their new lives as helpers to the King and the soon-to-be King Consort. 

On the ninth day of the trip, Nicklas’ young assistant, Andre, runs through the camp screaming about being “disturbed” and “so terribly traumatized.” When Sidney goes to him and asks what has happened, Andre looks crazed in the eyes.

“I fear that I am in too much shock to speak of what I have seen,” Andre says so sadly. Evgeni and Sidney worry that there are attackers in their midst, but the sight of General Ovechkin and Doctor Backstrom emerging from the woods not too far away, trying to adjust their wrinkled and dirty clothing, is enough of a hint to cause Evgeni to start cackling. Nicklas’ cheeks burn bright as he hides behind a brooding Sasha.

“You will catch hell for this,” Sasha grumbles halfheartedly as he and Nicklas walk past a still flabbergasted Andre. Sidney covers his mouth with his hand to hide his snickers.

“It was like watching my own _parents_ fuck,” Andre whines, and Sidney has to honk out a laugh at that. Everyone within earshot of what just took place begins to laugh and wolf-whistle as well. Sasha threatens to castrate them all before pulling Nicklas back into his tent.

The rest of the trip is fairly quiet but enjoyable, nonetheless. Sidney is thankful that these Royal Guards know how to play cards and are no longer terrified of the sight of the Direwolves. Sidney has especially grown fond of Pascal Dupuis, a fellow soldier from the North who had long ago left for King’s Landing in search of a better life for him and his wife. Every night, before they depart to sleep in their separate tents, Evgeni asks Sidney the same question: “Do you promise that you have not reconsidered your decision?” He reminds Sidney every time that he will gladly take Sidney back to Winterfell if he so desires, but Sidney has the same answer with a fond roll of his eyes. 

“I would never dream of being anywhere else.”

The morning that they finally arrive at the gates of King’s Landing, Evgeni can sense Sidney’s anxiousness. Tonight, they will be married, and Sidney will be crowned King Consort of Westeros. One of the Royal Seamstresses has been quickly working to create a new outfit for Sidney: silk robes of the purest white with gold trim and the crest of House Malkin over his left breast. Evgeni is left breathless at his betrothed’s dry, fluffed curls cascading down to the edge of his neck and his stunning physique being cleverly accented by the tightness of the fabric. Sidney fumbles with the gold cuffs of his tunic.

“I feel ridiculous,” Sidney mumbles while looking at himself in the tall mirror. Evgeni chuckles quietly.

“You look perfect, my love,” the King says sincerely. He keeps his distance at the entrance of the tent. He knows how much self-control he lacks. These past three weeks have been torturous at best, but he knows that tonight, when they consummate their marriage, it will have all been worth it. Sidney’s cheeks darken in color.

“I look like a—like—”

“Like royalty? Like how the groom of the King of Westeros ought to look? Because that is what I believe you look like.” Sidney huffs and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I cannot wait for tonight.” Evgeni laughs, startled at Sidney’s honest confession. Sidney’s face becomes impossibly redder. “Oh, fuck off. Like you haven’t been waiting for this night for months. You can’t fool me, Evgeni.” Evgeni’s laughs quiet down to little chuckles. He wishes he could touch Sidney right now.

“Zhenya.” Sidney turns around and raises an eyebrow at his future husband.

“Pardon?”

“If you are to be my husband, then you must call me by the name only those closest to me can call me. They call me Zhenya.” Sidney slowly pronounces the name until he is finally confident enough to say it without hesitation. Evgeni steps inside and walks forward until he can reach for Sidney’s hands. He kisses every knuckle before stepping away.

“If I am to call you Zhenya,” Sidney asks, “then what are you to call me?”

“Anything you want. I can still call you Sidney or maybe Sid. Squid is a very lovely nickname, if I do say so myself.” Sidney throws a balled-up piece of parchment at Evgeni’s head and pouts as the King laughs. “Or I could give you a new nickname—something only I am allowed to call you. I cannot think of anything at this moment in time, but I will before the night is over.” Sidney rolls his eyes fondly at Evgeni.

“I’m sure you will.”

The caravan stops just far enough back that Evgeni and Sidney can take in the view of King’s Landing. Sidney breathes deeply and slowly. Evgeni helps Sidney mount his white stallion, Spartan, before he takes his place on Rhaegon. Evgeni turns to the mage.

“This is your last chance,” he says quietly. “After this, there is no turning back. So I will ask one last time: Do you promise that you have not reconsidered your decision?” Sidney tears his awed gaze away from the silhouette of the Red Keep rising above the rest of King’s Landing to look at the King. His smile is gentle and his eyes sparkle in the light of the beautiful sunrise. 

“I would never dream of being anywhere else.” Evgeni grins gestures to King’s Landing with his arm.

“Welcome to your new home, then, my love. Welcome to King’s Landing.”

**/\\\//\\\//\**

Evgeni’s mother helps straighten his cloak and fix his hair so that it does not look as if he has just awoken. He knows well enough to simply let her fret over him until she is content. “I cannot believe you are finally getting married,” Natalia Malkin says happily for what seems like the thousandth time in the past four hours that Evgeni has been reunited with her. The Head Royal Seamster, a young man by the name of Marc-Andre of House Fleury, had whisked Sidney away to be fitted for his wedding attire as soon as they had reached the doors of the Red Keep. The parade had been quite the to-do, and Sidney had not expected to be greeted with such love and happiness from the people of King’s Landing as a whole. Evgeni was thrilled at the joy his people had for his groom.

“I still cannot believe it myself,” Evgeni confesses. He has always been able to be open with his mother about his fears and his vulnerabilities, and he will never be more grateful to have someone in his life who will not judge his emotional ways.

“I knew he was something special when you first started writing to me about him. You spoke so highly of him, it was almost like reading your letters about—” Natalia lets the words fade with a small fault in her step. But she recovers quickly enough with a kind smile. “But this is different. Sidney is not her. I have never known of another person to make you as happy as Sidney has so obviously made you. You have returned to me a different man—a better one.” Evgeni has to hug his mother. She always knows exactly what to say at just the right moments.

“He makes me very happy,” Evgeni tells her.

“That is all I can ever ask of him.”

Prince Denis gives Evgeni a strong embrace as they stand outside of the church, careful of the golden crown atop his brother’s head. “You’re really getting married,” Denis breathes wistfully. “My little brother has finally found someone who could tame him.” Evgeni rolls his eyes but laughs anyway. Denis has always been a great older brother, despite their constant bickering. “Father would be proud of you, you know? You have taken on the responsibility of being King of Westeros and now you are to be a husband and, one day, a father. You have made our family proud.”

Evgeni cannot find the words to say. So he hugs his brother one more time before straightening out his clothes and rolling his shoulders back. By the cue of the fanfare and the opening of the large double doors leading into the sanctuary of the cathedral, the wedding has begun.

Every step Evgeni takes down the center aisle of the massive church is another step closer to binding himself to Sidney. It takes every drop of willpower he possesses to not run out of the church and find Sidney himself. He has a duty, though. He must carry himself with dignity in the eyes of the Royal Council and his people. He stands with his brother to his left, the Priest to his right. He waits ever so patiently for the now closed doors to open again. He has not seen Sidney since he was taken this morning to be fitted and tailored for his wedding clothes. He misses his Sidney.

The music stops then starts again, this time to play the traditional tune for a bride about to be given away. Evgeni’s breath hitches as the doors swing open. Sidney is there on the other side, dressed in the same stunning outfit he wore earlier. The only difference is the long, blood red cape with a golden bear’s head etched into the stitching along the back draped over his broad, strong shoulders. His usually wild, curly hair is tame and pristine. He is pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, but he only has eyes for Evgeni. Sidney walks down the aisle in time with the music, shoulders back and head held high. He never misses a step. Evgeni can only think of how Sidney was born for royalty. This is the life he is meant to live: married to Evgeni, ruling alongside him, having the world effortlessly kneel at his feet. Evgeni reaches for Sidney’s hand when the mage is close enough. Sidney takes it with a soft smile. They face the Priest and proceed with the wedding.

Everything moves so quickly. Evgeni can pinpoint certain moments based on when he has to look away from Sidney—which is not very often—and recite his vows to him. Sidney says his vows next, just before the Priest presents their rings. The metal along Evgeni’s left ring finger is a welcomed weight. He grins happily as he is finally given permission to be able to kiss his husband.

His _husband._ Evgeni cannot believe it. Sidney is now his _husband._

Sidney’s coronation is much more memorable. Sidney kneels before Evgeni and bows his head. Evgeni has to remind himself of where he is so that he does not do anything indecent in the middle of _his husband’s coronation._ He takes the delicate gold circlet with the one ruby stone sitting in the middle of the precious metal from the cushion presented to him by an altar boy. The circlet is a perfect fit and does not catch on Sidney’s curls. He helps Sidney rise to his feet and continues to hold his hand as they turn to the guests watching them closely. 

“I present to you,” the Priest announces in a booming voice, “Evgeni of House Malkin, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm!” Evgeni will never tire of hearing his full name being said to a crowd. It is an incomparable rush. “And, introducing for the first time, his husband, Sidney of House Crosby, the First of His Name, King Consort of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm!”

The crowd cheers. Sidney squeezes Evgeni’s hand so tightly. Evgeni tightens his grip as well. Evgeni is King and Sidney is King Consort. They are finally joined in marriage for the rest of their days. Evgeni has everything he could ever want. He has never been so happy in his life.

As long as he has Sidney by his side, he will always be happy. 

**/\\\//\\\//\**

As much as Evgeni loves parties and feasts, he is desperate to fuck Sidney for as long and as often as he can. They have to consummate the marriage tonight—not that the King nor the King Consort need prompting to do so—but so many people want to speak with him and congratulate him on finding a _handsome, fertile spouse._ He cringes just hearing the vile, degrading things some of these pigs have to say about his husband, but he bites his tongue. Besides, he knows that Sidney is his and his alone. His eyes linger on Sidney’s body the whole night, and he has to hold himself back from just taking Sidney’s hand and pulling him away to the wing of the castle with his rooms in it and just fuck Sidney until they are both incoherent and drunk on sex.

They dance, drink, eat, and enjoy themselves until Sidney is giggling into the junction between Evgeni’s neck and shoulder, the cold metal of his circlet pressing into him. At that moment, Evgeni decides that he and Sidney have waited long enough. He has been celibate for _eight months,_ for the Seven’s sake. Sidney has been celibate his entire _life._ They will fuck tonight, and Evgeni will not let Sidney’s first time ever to be touched by another man be in front of a fucking Priest and his _mother._ He wraps his arm around his husband’s surprisingly small waist and steers him along to exit from the large ballroom. He spots his mother and brother talking to people, but they both make eye contact with him and knowingly grin his way. Denis even winks at him. Evgeni rolls his eyes and informs the Priest that he and Sidney are leaving to consummate their marriage.

“Ah, yes,” the Priest says cheerfully, “your mother and I will be there shortly to—”

“That will not be necessary,” Evgeni interrupts him kindly. The Priest frowns.

“Your Grace, it is customary to see if your wi— _husband,_ I apologize—has stayed pure for his wedding night. Purity is of the utmost importance when finding a spouse, especially when you are a King.”

“I already know he is a virgin, thank you. Sidney and I have patiently waited many months to finally be intimate with each other, and now we shall wait no longer. We will not be back for the rest of the evening. Good night.”

Evgeni does not give the Priest time to protest his decision as he and Sidney exit the stuffy ballroom. Sidney laughs as they all but run to Evgeni’s wing. Evgeni has lived in this castle since he was a babe. He knows every corridor and secret route like the back of his hand, so finding his chambers is easy enough. He opens the heavy, wooden door and smirks at Sidney’s gasp upon seeing his new chambers.

“This is beautiful, Evgeni,” Sidney says happily. Evgeni grins and kicks the door closed behind him. He takes his crown from his head and rests it on the velvet pillow on the stand next to the lock. He locks the door and takes his husband into his arms.

“Only the best for my husband,” he says simply. Sidney giggles and stands on the tips of his toes to kiss Evgeni. They stand there and kiss for quite some time. As much as he wants to just kiss Sidney, they _do_ have to consummate their marriage before the Old Gods and the New. Evgeni lets his hands slide down from Sidney’s waist to his ass—he may let them rest there for a moment too long because _fuck,_ Sidney’s body was most certainly blessed by every God and deity that exists or has ever existed. His hands grip at the junction between Sidney’s ass and thighs, and Sidney responds with a sigh against Evgeni’s lips.

“Jump,” Evgeni murmurs. Sidney does so with ease, but his voice still squeaks when Evgeni holds him up so easily, like he is weightless. Sidney snakes his arms and legs around Evgeni’s body and breathes onto Evgeni’s face. Sidney breaks into giggles and blushes so prettily. Evgeni laughs quietly and walks further into the massive room. Sidney’s breathing picks up with every step Evgeni takes.

Evgeni throws Sidney onto the extravagantly large bed of his royal chambers— _their_ royal chambers—and climbs on top of him, pinning his body into the softness of his fur blankets. Sidney huffs a laugh just as Evgeni leans down and kisses him with as much hunger as he can muster. Sidney moans loudly into Evgeni’s mouth and tugs at the King’s red tunic. Evgeni smirks and sits back on his haunches. He basks in Sidney’s whines that silence almost immediately after Evgeni throws his tunic to the floor by the bed. He delights in the way Sidney bites his lip and _stares._ Truly, he loves how Sidney looks at him, but he needs to get them both naked right this second.

Evgeni reaches for the drawstring tying Sidney’s tunic together to hide his collarbones and loosens the knot. Sidney gasps and lets his eyes flutter closed. “Look at me, husband,” Evgeni commands softly. “I want to see you. I want to watch you watch me take you apart.” Sidney whines and opens his eyes again. The ring of hazel is thin around large orbs of black. Evgeni hums as he takes the hem of Sidney’s tunic and pulls the material cleanly over his head and wrists. Sidney shivers at the chilled air hitting his freshly exposed skin. Evgeni licks his lips at the endless snow white skin covering defined muscles and discolored by scars and bruises only a soldier would carry. He traces every imperfection with his fingertips, soaking up every heavy breath and the way Sidney’s muscles twitch sensitively with every stroke.

“Zhenya, please,” Sidney whimpers.

“Please what, my love?” Evgeni rasps. He teases his fingers at the band of Sidney’s trousers before moving them away. Sidney groans impatiently. “Tell me what you want.” Sidney’s knuckles are white as they grasp the sheets so tightly. 

“Please fuck me, my King.” The desperation in Sidney’s lust-filled eyes is enough of a push for Evgeni to tear the remnants of Sidney’s clothes off. Evgeni’s mouth waters as he watches the blush on Sidney’s cheeks bleed into his neck, chest, and shoulders. Sidney is panting through his mouth and squirming under Evgeni’s gaze. Evgeni leans down and gently kisses each of Sidney’s collarbones, then up his neck and jaw, back down the other side, down, down, down until he is eye level with Sidney’s hardening cock. He thumbs the jut of Sidney’s hipbones and kisses above them both. 

“My husband,” he mutters into Sidney’s heated skin. “My beautiful King Consort.”

Evgeni does not waste his time when taking Sidney’s cock into his mouth, humming around the head and skillfully dragging his tongue along the length of him. Sidney’s yelp derives into a long, drawn-out moan that makes Evgeni’s cock jump in his breeches. He untangles Sidney’s hands from the blankets and winds their fingers together.

“Zhenya!” Sidney cries when Evgeni takes all of him in one fell swoop. Evgeni is a little out of practice, but Sidney does not seem to care. Every swear, moan, cry, every whimper that Evgeni pulls from Sidney is another sound closer to bringing Sidney to the brink of burning pleasure. He almost chokes when Sidney pushes roughly up to his face. He has to hold Sidney’s hips down and pull off of him to speak again.

“Keep still,” he warns with a growl. Sidney gulps and nods his head quickly. Evgeni takes Sidney again, bobbing his head faster and rougher than before. All too soon, Sidney’s thighs suddenly tighten around his head as Sidney sobs out, “I’m going to—I can’t stop it! Zhenya, please!” Evgeni hums around the base of Sidney’s cock and swallows every drop of his seed, tightening his grip on Sidney’s now bruising hips. He takes Sidney’s softening cock out of his mouth and kisses each hip again before trailing bites and licks up Sidney’s chest until he is kissing Sidney’s lips. 

“That was incredible,” Sidney says breathlessly when Evgeni pulls away. Then the self-consciousness surfaces in his face. His eyes drift to Evgeni’s heavy cock straining against his dress trousers. His fingers twitch hesitantly. “Do you want me to—”

“Not tonight, my love,” Evgeni whispers. “Tonight, I want you to enjoy yourself.” He nips at Sidney’s neck at every other word. “I want to take every inch of you apart, piece by piece.” He pushes himself away from his husband’s sweaty body, much to Sidney’s displeasure, and walks to a small chest at the foot of the bed. He opens it to find the best oils he has all neatly aligned alongside his softest silky—erm, _restraints._ As much as he would love to experiment with those, this is not the night to test them on his beloved. They have all the time in the world for that. He takes the tall, clear bottle that is completely full and closes the chest. He tosses the bottle on the bed and peels off the rest of his clothes, sighing in relief when his cock is sprung free. Sidney tries to stifle a moan, but he is not particularly successful. Evgeni does not mind, especially when he notices Sidney’s cock fattening up again. Sidney reaches for his cock with his hand, but Evgeni bats it away just as quickly. Sidney pouts while Evgeni chuckles and crawls on top of Sidney again.

“Patience, my love,” he says kindly while teasingly stroking a finger up the underside of Sidney’s cock. Sidney’s hips jump. “Trust me. I will take care of you.” Evgeni takes the bottle and moves up to the head of the bed, sitting up against the mountain of pillows. He pats his thigh and smirks at Sidney. Sidney swallows the lump in his throat as he crawls slowly, almost innocently, into his husband’s lap. The circlet gleams in the pale moonlight, still sitting perfectly over his curls. Evgeni wishes he could paint a portrait of his husband just like this: the way Sidney looks so innocent despite the post-orgasmic flush across his body. He cups Sidney’s cheek with his free hand and kisses his lips so sweetly. “This will be much more comfortable for your first time,” he assures his King Consort. “Tell me if I hurt you or if you wish to stop. I will do so at any time.” Sidney worries at his bottom lip and fiddles with his thumbs nervously. Evgeni strokes his cheek with his thumb and kisses his forehead just above the circlet. 

“People have always said that it hurts the first time,” Sidney tells Evgeni. “That it’s agonizing and—and _bloody._ I know that you would never intentionally harm me, but—I am terrified, all the same.” Evgeni hums into Sidney’s curls.

“I know it’s terrifying for you. Do not be ashamed for being nervous of what is to come. Just promise me that you will stop me if it becomes too much or if I begin to hurt you. That is all I ask of you.” Sidney’s next breath is shaky, but he nods his head quickly. He looks at Evgeni sincerely.

“I promise.”

Evgeni’s fingers are slow and careful as they slide in and out of Sidney’s body. Sidney’s anatomy is not so unfamiliar from that of another man’s, but the subtle differences are there. The inside of Sidney’s ass was already a little wet when Evgeni first touched it; there is not just one but two different entrances very closely placed together; and the walls are much softer than that of any man or woman Evgeni has ever touched. He still uses plenty of oil when prepping Sidney, unwilling to risk injuring him on their first night together as husbands.

Sidney takes the first finger with gusto—“I played with myself once before,” Sidney confesses sheepishly, “but I became afraid that the Gods would curse me for staining my purity, so I never tried it again”—and Evgeni groans. Sidney is so tight around his finger. He cannot wait to put his cock in him. The second finger is a bit more of a stretch, but Sidney is grinding down onto Evgeni’s hand after only a few seconds of adjusting. Sidney hisses when Evgeni tries to add a third finger, so Evgeni halts. When he is ready, Sidney nods for Evgeni to keep moving. Sidney’s head tips back when Evgeni’s fingertips brush against something inside of him. He grazes it again, delighting in the surprised moan torn from Sidney’s throat.

He spreads his fingers around and thrusts into Sidney a dozen more times before he pulls all of his fingers out completely. Sidney whimpers from the loss, but Evgeni is quick to slick his cock. He shudders around his hand and tightens his grip to keep himself from spilling too early.

“You will tell me if it hurts, yes?” Evgeni asks. Sidney looks at him with the widest, prettiest eyes, so full of trust and an unconditional love that punches the air from Evgeni’s chest.

“Yes,” Sidney breathes. Evgeni rubs more oil over Sidney’s hole and dries his hands on the pillowcases behind him. He spreads Sidney’s incredibly large ass cheeks apart and lets his cockhead tease Sidney’s rim. Sidney squeezes his eyes shut and holds on to Evgeni’s shoulders for dear life as he is lowered onto Evgeni’s cock. The choked, broken groan from Sidney’s mouth nearly forces Evgeni to come immediately. There is no way he will last very long like this. Thank the Seven he has a fantastic sex drive. Evgeni is so distracted by the potential of two or three more rounds of sex tonight that he accidentally moves Sidney a little faster than he had planned. Sidney gasps and bites his lip hard.

“I am terribly sorry, my love! Are you hurt?” Evgeni asks frantically. Sidney shakes his head immediately and coughs up another breath.

“Just different, is all,” he says. By the Seven, his voice is already so _wrecked._ “You can keep going.”

“Sidney—” 

“You are not hurting me, I swear. You trust me to tell you when I am hurt, so I expect you to trust me when I tell you that I am not hurt. Now please keep going. I’m not fragile.” Evgeni cannot decide whether to be offended or irrationally turned on at the bossiness of Sidney’s voice in their bedroom. Another exploration for another time, Evgeni supposes.

He and Sidney moan together when Sidney finally sits himself fully on Evgeni’s hard, thick cock. _Fuck,_ Evgeni thinks to himself, _how can one be so fucking tight?_ He cautiously lifts Sidney up again until only his head is left inside and drops Sidney down again. Sidney moans loudly.

“Feels good, yes?” Evgeni tries to say smugly, but he feels just as breathless as Sidney looks.

“Yes,” Sidney groans. He adjusts his knees to have more leverage underneath him. He then rises and sinks onto Evgeni’s cock, sighing as he does. “Feels so, _so_ good.” Evgeni smirks and the two begin to build a rhythm together. They move slow, at first, but gradually speed up and meet halfway between each other’s thrusts. Sidney never once looks away from Evgeni’s gaze and keens almost constantly with every move of Evgeni’s hips. Evgeni listens and complies with each moan of _faster_ and _harder_ and thinks of the bruises Sidney will leave behind on his shoulders.

Evgeni reminds himself that his dear Sidney is not fragile and weak, which is why he feels no sympathy for the way he grips Sidney’s hips too tightly as he guides the King Consort up and down his cock. The bruises will look so beautiful against his snow white skin come morning. Sidney’s eyes flutter and his groans drown out Evgeni’s as the King’s movements become sloppier and rougher. He knows he has hit the most sensitive parts of Sidney when the King Consort releases high-pitched whines of the most bone deep pleasure. Evgeni will not be able to last much longer, and neither will Sidney.

“I’m going to—” Evgeni tries to say, but the words fade into an almost animalistic shout at the way Sidney impossibly _tightens_ around him. Sidney whimpers and nods. 

“Me too,” he says with a whine. Evgeni bites his lip and controls the brutal pace of the way Sidney is fucking down onto him, _riding him,_ like he was made for Evgeni’s cock. Evgeni has never seen a more beautiful creature than his husband. Sidney’s lips are bitten and swollen red to match the flush that has reached his belly, and his curls are sweaty and stuck to his forehead. The circlet gleams in Sidney’s hair. His noises have reached a new height of loudness, and his eyes are glazed over in ecstasy. He is the perfect portrait of debauched and thoroughly fucked. He is perfect.

Evgeni fucks into Sidney one, two, three more times before Sidney is spending all over himself, untouched. Sidney’s mouth is open wide and silent as his eyes roll hard to the back of his head. Evgeni’s vision whites out when he comes inside of his husband only seconds behind Sidney. His hips stop moving as the current of pleasure flows so ferociously through his body that all he can do is just let it overtake him.

Evgeni does not fully regain consciousness again for quite some time. He is dazed as he finds his discarded tunic and gently wipes the mess from Sidney’s stomach and the oil and his own seed from Sidney’s ass and between his thighs. It is not until he has Sidney almost purring happily into his chest as they lie together underneath the pile of furs on their bed that Evgeni comes back to himself entirely. He looks down at his pleasure-drunk King Consort and cannot resist taking in the scent of his faintly sweaty hair. He hugs Sidney closer to his body and does not wish to ever let go.

“I love you,” Sidney says so softly that Evgeni almost does not catch it. Evgeni’s heart races as Sidney beams at him. Evgeni is quick to return the smile.

“I love you, too, Sidka.” The name slips past his lips without him realizing until it is too late. Sidney’s eyes glint in confusion, but he never stops smiling.

“Sidka?” he repeats. “Is that what you would like to call me?” Evgeni shrugs in a manner he hopes comes off as casual, even though he is irrationally nervous that Sidney will disapprove.

“Yes,” he answers truthfully. Sidney hums in thought before looking at Evgeni again.

“I like it.” Evgeni chuckles happily and leans down to kiss his husband. 

“I do, too.” Neither of them deepen the kiss, and Sidney settles himself back into Evgeni’s arms. They only lie there for a short time before Evgeni lets his hand ghost its way down Sidney’s side, hip, and back to his ass. Sidney hums against Evgeni’s chest and grins. He squirms until he is straddling Evgeni’s lap. They lazily kiss as Evgeni’s hands slide up and down Sidney’s sweaty skin. Evgeni’s cock twitches with interest against Sidney’s thigh. Sidney sighs then gasps when his husband’s long, thick fingers graze his hole. Evgeni sinks two in so easily. He bites his lip cockily at Sidney’s high-pitched whimper.

At the same moment, there is a loud knock on the door.

“Honest to the fucking Seven,” Evgeni growls. Sidney groans grumpily and thumps his forehead against Evgeni’s shoulder.

“Zhenya, make it stop,” he whines like a spoiled, petulant child. Evgeni cannot complain because he feels the exact same way. 

“What do you want!” he barks at the door. “Can it not wait until morning?”

“I was sent here by the Royal Council, Your Grace!” a young man’s voice is heard from the other side of the door. “They say it is imperative you attend their meeting!” 

“Right now?”

“Yes sir!” Evgeni shouts angrily to the ceiling.

“Dawn has not yet come! Whatever it is, they can wait until daylight! Now leave me and my husband be!”

“It’s urgent, Your Grace! They tell me it is of the utmost importance that you attend! They say the fate of Westeros rests in your hands!” Evgeni rolls his eyes. It is far too late— _early?_ —to be talking to the Royal Council right now. Evgeni would bet all of his most prized possessions—sans Sidney, of course—that Head Councilman Bettman is the one calling for him, the idiotic bastard.

“Just go to the meeting, Zhenya,” Sidney groans. “The sooner you go and handle whatever catastrophe has been brought to them, the quicker you can come back to bed.”

“But I do not wish to leave you so soon, my love.” Sidney props his elbow underneath him and looks at Evgeni with tired hazel eyes.

“I don’t wish for you to leave me, either. But you are still King, and you have duties to fulfill.” It is Evgeni’s turn to whine like a child. Evgeni is preparing to slip out of the warmth of his bed when Sidney’s eyes grow in size and a smirk graces his lips. Evgeni’s eyes narrow.

“What are you looking at me like that for?”

“How about I attend the meeting with you?” 

“Sidka—”

“I know that they won’t speak to me or acknowledge my presence, and—if I am being completely honest—I do not entirely care what any of them have to say, either. But they _are_ interrupting our first night of marriage together. So they should deal with the consequences of their decision.” Sidney is distractedly drawing shapes into Evgeni’s skin and looking at Evgeni with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes that quickly turns lustful. Evgeni raises a brow. Sidney bats his long, deadly eyelashes, and Evgeni knows right then that he is sold on the idea. He holds his enthusiasm back, though.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do? You were fucked for the first time just minutes ago. And you will be in front of people.” Sidney rolls his eyes.

“Yes, but I am feeling particularly vengeful at the moment. I was just about to have you fuck me again before the servant came and asked for your presence.” Evgeni’s jaw drops in shock. Has his husband’s shyness and innocence truly disappeared so quickly? Whoever said that sex changes a man was speaking the greatest truth that Evgeni never knew. “Now, are we going to this meeting or not?” Evgeni is trying to think logically about how terrible this will look in front of the Royal Council and how this could greatly backfire and make Sidney feel very remorseful. but the way the King Consort is looking at him is overpowering any rational thought Evgeni has.

_Fuck it._

“Tell the Council my husband and I will be there soon,” Evgeni calls to the door. “If they have any complaints of the King Consort accompanying me, then they can leave the meeting, if they so please. They are at fault for disturbing us on our wedding night! Understood?”

“Yes, Your Grace!” the servant squeaks and scampers away from the door. Evgeni and Sidney share a glance before grinning smugly at one another.

**/\\\//\\\//\**

Sidney moans loudly and frequently with every thrust of Evgeni’s hips fucking viciously into him. Evgeni has his large hands hooked under Sidney’s knees with Sidney sprawled on his back over the long, wooden table where the Council’s meeting is being held. The Royal Council members, including an unfazed Sasha and peeved Gonchar, are avoiding staring at the couple being so intimate with one another.

“Zhenya,” Sidney cries, “please not so rough with me. I’m still so— _oh,_ I’m still so sore, my love.” Evgeni does not slow his pace, not even at the sound of Head Councilman Bettman clearing his throat from the other end of the table.

“Your Grace,” he says over the sound of Sidney’s moans, “we are here to explain the incident of an uprising in the Reach that is attempting to rebel against the Crown.” Evgeni purposely ignores Bettman and grinds a very dirty push into Sidney that has the King Consort arching his back off of the table and curling his toes. “Your Grace, is this really the time and the place to be fucking your husband? We are meant to be discussing a strategy to end this uprising!” Evgeni snaps his head up to look Bettman in the eye, not once losing his rhythm.

“You do understand that tonight is my first night of marriage with my husband, yes?” he snarls.

“Well, yes, but—”

“Then why the fuck did you think it was a good idea to summon me in the middle of consummating my marriage with my husband?” Sidney is the only one making any sound amidst the awkward silence that follows. Evgeni leans down and bites Sidney’s bare shoulder, relishing in the sound of Sidney’s scream. Sidney’s hands scramble to grasp at Evgeni’s clothed back. His head thunks back into the table.

“Please, Your Grace,” Bettman pleads with the King, “we have been informed of an uprising beginning to take form in the Reach! This is a very important matter to discuss!”

“So important that it could not wait until dawn?”

“Zhenya!” Sidney yells in warning, “I’m so close!” Evgeni spits into the palm of his hand and tugs at Sidney’s red cock mercilessly. Sidney sobs as he spills into Evgeni’s hand and onto his chest, whimpering when Evgeni does not stop fucking him. “Oh, my love, please,” he sobs weakly, small tears leaking from his eyes. Evgeni inwardly _beams_ at the sight. “It’s too much.”

“This is entirely unnecessary and inappropriate behavior from you and your Consort, Your Grace!” Bettman shouts angrily.

“That is _King_ Consort to you, Bettman,” Evgeni snarls. Several other members of the Royal Council are either yelling in agreement with Bettman, voicing their approval of Evgeni’s response, or just grumbling general frustration all at once. Sidney rolls his head to the side and manages to crack his eyes open. He rolls them, peeved, and looks as if he is prepared to say something, but his jaw suddenly snaps shut. Evgeni raises a brow and is about to ask what is the matter, but then he is suddenly coming and coating Sidney’s insides. Evgeni groans lowly into Sidney’s chest. He opens his eyes moments later and is bewildered to see Sidney’s eyes quickly flash gold.

A bloodcurling scream echoes through the high-ceiling room before abruptly being cut off by the sound of something crashing into the floor. The room shakes with the force. Evgeni turns his head to look and see what has happened and watches on in horror as one of the guards standing by the doors bleeds out on the marble floor. The poor man was not just impaled, Evgeni discovers; he was crushed to death by a long, thin, sharp stone that once hung from the ceiling of the large strategy room. There is more shouting from the Councilmen and Evgeni is tying Sidney’s thin, silk robe back around his body. Evgeni helps his husband to his feet and rushes him from the room. They briskly walk past the dead guard, averting their eyes from the horrifically mangled body.

“Are you hurt?” Evgeni asks when they are outside of the strategy room. He looks over Sidney carefully, and the King Consort only nods his head, clearly shaken by what has happened.

“I’m fine, Zhenya,” Sidney says. Evgeni kisses the top of his head and breathes in his scent. “Are _you_ all right?”

“Just grateful to the Seven that you were not harmed.”

“Zhenya! Sidney!”

Evgeni looks up to see Gonchar and Sasha running toward the King and King Consort, carrying something concealed in a piece of cloth.

“What is it?” Sidney asks.

“We just found this on the dead guard’s body,” Sasha explains while handing them both the cloth. The object is heavy in Evgeni’s hand. He uncovers it to reveal a dagger still resting in its sheath. Evgeni looks more carefully at the detailing of the handle and the sheath itself. The stitching is so worn that he almost misses the faded crest of House Foligno in the middle of the sheath. He swears quietly under his breath. He darts his eyes between Sasha and Gonchar. 

“Who else knows about this?” Evgeni demands.

“We have not shown anyone else the dagger,” Gonchar assures Evgeni and Sidney. “Only the four of us know about it. If too many people know, then it could mean many problems and questions of loyalty.” Sidney narrows his eyes at the Royal Hand.

“You don’t trust the Royal Council,” he accuses.

“Not everyone in the Royal Council, no. I received word since arriving back in King’s Landing that we have traitors in our midst. I have no idea who, but it is something we all need to be careful for. And with this foiled attempt to what we assume was assassinate the King, there is no such thing as being too careful.”

“Every guard will be handpicked by all four of us from this moment forward,” Sasha promises. “Do you two wish for me to intensify security?”

“Not yet,” Sidney replies quietly. Evgeni looks incredulously at his husband.

“Sidka,” he tries to reason, “it’s too much of a chance. Absolutely, we will need to bring in more guards. We need to protect ourselves.”

“If we start bringing in more guards, everyone will know that something is wrong, and we will scare away the culprits. We need to keep things as mundane as possible. We could say this accident was just that: an accident. We don’t want the traitors knowing that we are clued in on their plans. We want them to stay and keep thinking that we are in the dark. It’s the only way we will catch them.” Gonchar raises an eyebrow then looks to Evgeni. 

“He’s right, Zhenya,” he admits. “The more guards you bring in, the less chance we have of finding the ones betraying the Crown before it’s too late.” _Damn you, Seryozha,_ Evgeni thinks to himself. He gives Sasha a pleading look, but Evgeni can tell by the guilty, reluctant expression in the General’s crystal blue eyes that Sasha is leaning more toward Sidney’s side of the argument as well.

“This is a delicate situation that will require plenty of planning and strategizing,” Sasha says in his General voice. “Sidney’s plan is a good start, but there is much more we will need to discuss. For now, though, I am dreaming of being in a warm bed with my Nicklas. And I am sure, Seryozha, that Ksenia wishes for you to return to her as well.” He eyes Sidney and Evgeni. “I _know_ you both want to be away from here more than any of us. Nice little show you put on in there, by the way. I am very surprised that you two did not kill the old bastard. I wish you would have, though. You would save us all a big headache.” Sidney’s cheeks are hot against Evgeni’s forearm from how red they are. “I assume this meeting is adjourned, Your Grace?” 

“Yes,” Evgeni replies almost too quickly. “We will meet again tomorrow in the afternoon. Everyone needs to rest.” They all grunt in agreement before parting ways. Sasha and Gonchar leave for their respected wings while Sidney and Evgeni return to their chambers on the other side of Red Keep. Evgeni tries to listen to Sidney ramble on about how violently the assassin died and how he cannot believe he actually let himself get fucked in front of the entire Royal Council and does not even regret it and that he swears his mother would be horrified if she was here to see what he has done; but the King is desperately trying to remember every detail of the incident in the strategy room. He knows that the disguised assassin being crushed to death was not a coincidence. Something caused that sharpened stone to fall in just the right spot at just the right moment.

Or, better yet— _someone_ caused that stone to fall and kill the assassin.

Evgeni abruptly stops walking, causing Sidney to stop as well. Sidney tilts his head back to look perplexedly at his husband. “Is everything all right, husband?” he asks. Evgeni stares blankly at Sidney, then blinks away the shock of what he has just realized.

“You knew,” the King says aloud. Sidney raises his eyebrows questioningly. “You knew that guard was an assassin, didn’t you?” Sidney’s eyes widen. “I saw your eyes turn gold right before the stone fell. I knew that you were in distress about something, but I did not have time to ask. You killed him before anyone could figure out what was going on.” Sidney is actually prepared to deny Evgeni’s accusations, but then he sighs defeatedly.

“I sensed that there was an unwanted presence in the room,” Sidney babbles almost too quickly for Evgeni to understand. “I was trying to find the source of the bad energy when my eyes landed on the guard by the door, and I knew that he didn’t belong. I was going to tell you, I swear, but then he made eye contact with me, and I just happened to see the knife. And I knew I had to act fast or things could have been horribly catastrophic, so I—I caused the stone to fall and kill him.”

Evgeni blinks once, twice, trying his best to grasp at what Sidney has told him. The King Consort sheepishly shuffles his bare feet like he has been caught slinging mud at another child, not like he has just confessed to murdering a man seconds after having mind-blowing sex in front of at least a dozen strangers and two friends who have never even seen him without a shirt before tonight. Is this truly what Evgeni’s life has come to? The Seven are either blessing him or mocking his very existence with this madness.

“Just like that?” Evgeni asks with a heavy tongue. “You just—caused a stone to fall on top of him?” Sidney rolls his eyes.

“Honestly, Zhenya, you have watched me spark fire my hands, and you saw the aftermath of what I did to the entire Northern Council after I discovered that they had betrayed me and my family. What I did in the strategy room was child’s play compared to what I am capable of.”

“I know that.” 

“Then why is it bothering you so?”

“It’s not _bothering_ me, Sidka. I admire your abilities, truly, but you could have been caught. Although mages do not face the same ridicule here that they do in the North, it is still not common practice in King’s Landing. Most of the men in the Royal Council do not trust mages for any reason. Since you are both a carrier _and_ a mage, any kindness that they ever thought of showing you would be no more. Your safety would be at risk.”

“So I still have to hide myself?” Sidney asks in disbelief. Evgeni doesn’t miss the twinge of sadness in his voice.

“Not forever and not entirely, but you must be very careful with who you trust. I do not want anyone trying to bring harm to you out of irrational fear or resentment. We are finally together, and I want to grow old with you.” Evgeni kisses his husband’s cheek and noses that same spot until Sidney is giggling and playfully pushing at his shoulder. Evgeni is sure that his face looks utterly ridiculous with how happy he is, but Sidney’s loving gaze makes it worthwhile. “I love you, Sidka. I just want you to be happy and safe.” Sidney sighs quietly into Evgeni’s embrace. They stand in the middle of the corridor, holding each other for what seems like forever when Sidney pipes up at random and says:

“I want to continue attending meetings with you. I know that the Royal Council will not truly acknowledge me or really respect me, but I can’t shake the thought that if I’m not there with you—” Sidney’s voice dies in his throat. Evgeni rests his head on top of his husband’s. “You say that you don’t want to lose me after you have only just gotten me. Well, I feel the same way about you. I would do anything to keep you safe as well, and I will. Before you say anything, I know that I will be chancing my own safety, but I would do it over and over again if it meant having you come to bed with me every night—alive.” Evgeni will never know what he has done to deserve this man.

“The only way you would be able to stay,” Evgeni warns, “is if you and I are fucking the entire time. You have told me time and time again that you do not wish for people to think you are a whore, but publicly putting yourself on display like that will not help denounce those rumors. If anything, they will flourish.” Sidney tilts his head to the side, hazel eyes wide and innocent. 

“You say this as if we have never fucked in public before,” the King Consort says simply. “You have already forgotten that, first and foremost, it was my idea to exact revenge on the Royal Council for forcing us out of bed _on our first night of marriage_ by having them watch you take me for your own pleasure. And roughly, might I add.” Evgeni smirks proudly. Sidney is just as smug if the mischief brightening his eyes is anything to go by. “Besides, not only is the public sex quite arousing, it makes for an ingenious facade. They think I’m some dumb, bumbling whore who has no idea what anyone is talking about; I observe to see who may be a traitor without being viewed as a threat. It’s the perfect front.” Evgeni blinks.

“You want to be a spy?” he asks slowly. Sidney shrugs casually.

“Spies are very reliable assets,” he replies matter-of-factly.

“It’s also a very dangerous job.”

“You do realize that I was once second in command to the second-biggest military in Westeros, yes?”

“Of course, but that’s different.”

“Did you also know that I was a spy for two years before I ever became an officer?” Evgeni wants to respond, but he snaps his jaw shut instead. Of all the conversations they have had of their days in the River War, Sidney had never mentioned that the was once a spy. “I know the perils I will have to face. I had one too many brushes with death, but I still lived through it all. I’m older and much more experienced now. I can do this.” Sidney gently kisses Evgeni’s cheek. “If you don’t wish for me to be a spy, I understand. I don’t want to upset you, but I really do believe that this could be a very good plan. Well—if anything, it’s good enough for now. We can always change tactics with time, especially if we are ever to have children.” Evgeni has to bite his tongue to keep from voicing how much he would _love_ to see his husband carry their children in his body, but he instead saves that thought away for later. “It doesn’t have to be known by anyone else except you and me.” Evgeni purses his lips and shakes his head. Sidney is going to be the death of him. If he won’t die from having sex with Sidney, he will surely drop dead from worry over his husband’s apparent recklessness and itch for adventure and danger.

“Sasha and Seryozha will need to know,” he finally says. “They know about the dagger and your magic, so it’s only fair that they are informed as well. We can trust them.” Sidney’s grin almost splits his face in two.

“You’re going to let me be a spy?” the King Consort asks hopefully. His eyes sparkle so brightly in the pale moonlight. Evgeni will never have the strength to deny his husband anything.

“It’s your choice. I will never take away your freedom. If you want to be a spy, I will support you.” Sidney hugs Evgeni around his neck and thanks him profusely. Evgeni holds him close and grins into his shoulder. “There is no need to thank me, my love. I just want you to be careful.”

“As long as I have you, I know I will be all right.” Evgeni kisses the top of Sidney’s head and breathes in his scent. It takes several moments for Evgeni to come to his senses in time and see Sidney’s fingers reach for the drawstrings on Evgeni’s trousers. Evgeni quickly jerks Sidney’s hands away and pins his wrists to his sides. Sidney giggles uncontrollably as he squirms in his husband’s grip. 

“You are insatiable,” the King growls. 

“And you are moving far too slow for my liking,” the King Consort retorts. Just as Evgeni is about to squawk like he has been offended, Sidney roughly crashes his lips against Evgeni’s, all teeth and tongue and no mercy. And before Evgeni can deepen the kiss, Sidney pulls away just as quickly and sprints down the hall toward their chambers. Evgeni raises his eyes to the ceiling and suddenly finds himself laughing like a manic fool. He uses his long legs to his advantage when chasing down his husband, who has most certainly not lost his speed and stamina since retiring from the Northern Army. Evgeni reaches for Sidney from behind and swings him around by his waist. Sidney squeaks and laughs with pure delight.

“Zhenya! Put me down!” Sidney commands, but it is only half hearted. Evgeni reaches for the doorknob and pushes the door to their bedroom open. He holds Sidney close to his chest and gently bites his earlobe. Sidney whimpers and presses his ass into Evgeni’s groin. He pushes himself away again and steps over the threshold, laughing and biting his lip as he unties his robe and seductively lets his fall to the ground. Evgeni growls at the sight of his husband’s bruised and bitten naked body.

“There’s not enough marks,” he rumbles possessively. Sidney smirks.

“Then make some more,” the King Consort says simply enough. “I wonder what they would like on my wrists? What about my ankles?” Evgeni stalks toward Sidney predatorily. Sidney doesn’t move from where he is standing. “I’ve never had any on my ass or my throat before. I was hoping you could change— _Zhenya!”_ Evgeni grips Sidney’s waist and throws him onto the bed with ease. Sidney cackles and bounces a little on the mattress. Evgeni turns around and slams the door closed, then securely locks the door in place.

There is an uprising in the Reach that King Evgeni needs to settle. There are many flaws in his and Sidney’s plan to let Sidney become a spy; Sasha and Gonchar will have to help set the plan into motion. There are traitors working against the Crown in the Red Keep. But for now, the King is enjoying the precious time he has with the man he loves and can proudly call him his husband, his King Consort. They have earned their time to bask in the sex-crazed heat of their honeymoon as husbands. 

The rest of the world can wait for a little while.

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS (also major spoilers):
> 
> \- A major male character has the ability to have children through a curse from when he was born. It is a vital part of his characterization and a recurring theme throughout the story.
> 
> \- A minor male character causes an incident near the beginning of the story where it seems as if he abuses or has abused his son, who is twenty-one. This is caused by a moment of rage in the middle of a meeting.
> 
> \- A major male character speaks of the mistreatment he experiences because of his status as a childbearer. This is also a recurring theme throughout the story.
> 
> \- Multiple scenes of graphic, bloody violence. One scene involves two major characters foiling an assassination attempt made on one character's life, and one character almost dies in the struggle.
> 
> \- Another scene involves the gruesome assassination of two supporting characters where they have their throats cut in front of their children. The battle that ensues involves one major character almost slicing a man in half with his sword. The rest of the battle is not as graphic.
> 
> \- Two major characters violently fight each other in a courtyard.
> 
> \- One major character beheads a minor character execution style after slaughtering twelve other men. The other twelve deaths are offscreen and implied, but their post-death corpses are briefly described by the narrator.
> 
> \- One man is crushed to death by a stone hanging from a ceiling near the end of the story. Not nearly as graphic, but still should be proceeded with caution.
> 
> \- A major character hallucinates after waking from a nightmare and points his sword at another major character, planning to kill him. Other said major character has to talk him down and out of his hallucination.
> 
> \- A major character loses his virginity to another major character in an explicit sex scene near the end of the story. They are consummating their marriage.
> 
> \- Two major characters have rough, explicit sex in front of several minor characters during a meeting at the end of the story. It is fairly graphic and may rub someone the wrong way if they are not into exhibitionism.
> 
> If I missed anything, please let me know so I can add more warnings to the list.


End file.
